The Justice of the Turnabout
by Simon Blackquill
Summary: [DD SPOILERS!] What would be said if the phantom arrested wasn't the phantom at all? Simon knows very well it isn't the phantom they've caught. The challenge is convincing others of that, and before it's time for the "phantom" to go on trial. But what can be done if no one will listen?
1. I: Detox

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

_Well, here's the start of a new story! It's based off an AU drabble I posted on my tumblr. At one point, the phantom (while attempting to convince others they're Fulbright) mentioned that they were following orders given by the phantom. I wondered how this would work if it was canon, so I made this story. I have NO idea if I'll actually finish it, but I hope you guys like it anyways!_

_Tell me of any inaccuracies, errors, etc. I'm not the best at character portrayal (poor Edgeworth is butchered), but I think I have everything in Dual Destinies right. I've been through it twice now._

* * *

Everyone had believed that if the phantom was caught and dealt with, then life would return to normal. It was the philosophy followed as soon as they were learned of, and it was one of the biggest driving forces during the UR-1 retrial, as well as wrapping up the murder of Clay Terran. The dark age of law would fade away with all that was wrong reversed. And truly, that was what it seemed to be. Trust was slowly coming back to the courtrooms, and things were picking up. The Wright Anything Agency was going to be as busy as ever, and with crime not exactly slowing either, the Prosecutor's Office was also planning for preoccupation as well. There was a new load now as well, that being of dealing with the newly captured phantom.

Interpol had almost immediately became involved. The phantom was a transnational spy, of course, so this was part of their job. This nameless, faceless man had been hunted for quite some time, and with him now in grasp, it was time to get the information they needed and deal with this criminal. They were hospitalised now, dealing with the bullet that barely missed the mark, but they'd pull through fine. Agents of Interpol who dealt more with interrogations were coming over through the night to start a very long process.

With the hours ticking by, Athena gave a light spin on the chair she sat in. A new bowl of noodles was placed in front of her, with Apollo eyeing in some cross of confusion and bewilderment. Eldoon's Noodles were, without a doubt, the hottest and saltiest noodles to ever be eaten. But she downed them with ease, and it shocked him every time. Phoenix just gave a laugh as he watched Trucy and Athena get ready for a race of who could eat their bowl faster. Off to the side, watching and talking idly among each other, were Edgeworth and Simon. They ate slower and were calmer, though it was wrong to claim they weren't enjoying their time. Everyone at the shop did, and the fun only carried on until everyone was full and it was beyond needing to go to bed. Slowly, the group that had gathered fell apart, all going off to their home. It was a happy night, and one to store off for more pleasant things.

Except for a few souls, namely one man who was shoved off into the darkness. He was rather crudely tied up. Hands were bound, and his feet were kept to a chair. Binds were over his mouth like a muzzle on a dog. But he looked calm, staring up at darkness above him as if he expected to notice something. Nothing ever came, of course, but his will wasn't deterred. That, or he was flat-out bored, and was just doing it to pass time. Either way, he was there, and he wasn't moving. It was pointless anyways. The space was too small for movement. So a statue he remained. It was almost rehearsed. Almost. Nothing could stay that way, and indeed he didn't. His eyes started fall, and his head slowly sank, and he slipped into sleep.

It was soon destroyed by the rude opening of a door, light blasting in and the voice of the opener saying, "All right, then. You're done here." Light showed a man walk in who looked much like the one bound. He bent down, eyeing the other who could have murdered with the look he gave. The free one stood up and let out a jolly laugh, fists on his side. He then asked, "What's wrong, Prosecutor Blackquill?" There was a moment of pause, before he then realised, "I suppose these aren't your mannerisms." The happy voice slid away, becoming lower and more rough. Those hands dropped and he then said, "Is this more of your liking? Cykes-dono seemed to be so easily tricked by it, anyhow." Some kind of assholish grin came to his face. "Even your avian friend was. But I have no use for this guise anymore. The phantom has been captured and is in holding of the Prosecutor's Office."

And then, the mouth gag was released. Blackquill only continued his death stare as though it would help. A sharp laugh came from the other, and he asked, "Why are you so quiet?"

"You are not worthy of my voice," he spat back finally.

Once more, that sneer was lit up on his face. "Then I shall have it for you. It will be easier that way, though I can't have you talking. Not yet."

"And that is supposed to mean what, exactly? Do you plan to throw me across the River Styx yourself, _phantom?_" The name was spoken with poison.

"No." That fake look-alike reached into his pocket, pulling out a case with care. It was clear, and the inside was a needle filled with some kind of substance. "Go back to sleep, Prosecutor Blackquill." The voice had morphed back to what it had been before. "Oh, and, congratulations on your acquittal. I told you I would never give up on you!"

"You demon!" Blackquill roared, pushed past his limit. For the first time, he attempted to move, jerking forth. The other just raised a foot and kicked him back. His head hit the wall behind him before settling to be lowered. He resumed glaring.

"What's your favorite word?" There was a pause, before the growl of, "Silence!" came out of the one standing. The needle was pulled out. "Calm yourself. It will make this a lot less of a strain on you."

Before a reply could be given, the man moved forth, bringing it onto the captured one's arm. It was a rough injection; something that had been hoped to avoid, but was impossible with how riled Blackquill was. Slowly, though, the other relaxed. His breathing calmed. His head slowly began to lower, and his eyes closed. The other moved away, seeming satisfied. Blackquill was put to sleep. As he was slowly unbound, the man muttered, "_In_justice we trust."

* * *

The first thing Simon did when he came into work the next day, looking awful even for him, was say, "The man we have captured is not the phantom." And everyone proceeded to stare at him like he'd lost his mind. It likely wasn't far from the truth. He'd been present the whole of the phantom's demise, saw him be arrested, the breakdown, and everything. To suddenly say their man was wrong was ridiculous.

And that's exactly what Edgeworth said. "That's ridiculous."

Simon held firm. His fists clenched as if a show of such, and he said, "It is not ridiculous, Chief Prosecutor. The man we captured is not the phantom."

"And what is the basis of your claim?" he asked, taking off his glasses and finally bothering to set down the papers in his hands. "You were there-"

"I was not."

At that point, Edgeworth closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. His index and thumb ran over his eyes before pinching his nose. He didn't need this right now. His hand then dropped on the desk, and he looked up, asking, "Did you sleep last night?"

A pause, and then, "Pardon?"

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Yes…"

Edgeworth put back on his glasses. "Try to get some more tonight."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He looked over from the papers he'd picked up. "Get more rest, and try not to think too radically. You must have had a nightmare or something."

"A nightmare, sir?"

"A nightmare."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're saying you weren't at the trial." His voice was flat and blunt, as if he was insulted that this conversation was even happening.

"I was not-"

"Too many people disagree, including myself."

A hand slammed down on Edgeworth's desk, and Simon just said with urgency, "Chief Prosecutor! With all due respect, that was not me."

"Then who was it?"

"_That_ was the phantom!"

Edgeworth didn't look up anymore. "Out of my office."

"Chief Prosecutor?"

"If it makes you feel better, you have my permission to talk to him later. He's at the Hickfield Clinic." He picked up a pen and began writing. "I can't promise Interpol won't be talking to him, as they're certainly eager to start, but you can try. Now, Blackquill, I have work to do." He glanced up. "Cases aren't slowing down. You'll have one assigned to you soon." He looked back down to his work once more. "I'll send an officer your way with one."

"But, sir-"

"_Go,_ Blackquill."

Faced with no other option, he did, though his reluctance was obvious. One of the prosecutors there, Blackquill didn't know much on him but he was a rather older one, attempted some kind of consultation at seeing the overly aggravated man, but was shooed away. Simon just worked on setting up his office for now. He'd take Edgeworth up on that permission, and go see the phony phantom himself.

* * *

"This stubborn _brat!_"

Some kind of furious woman stood outside the phantom's room, a man next to her watching warily. They were both dressed up in suits, miscellaneous items between them and a couple briefcases set to the side. The woman paced back and forth, ranting in frustration while the man just continued to watch. He stayed very quiet, leaned on a wall with arms folded. At hearing someone approach, he gave a look over, shaking his head with eyes wide. He didn't know who the emo-looking rogue that approached was, nor did he care, but it was best he stopped for everyone's sake. But he didnt. He came up, and prompted what had happened.

The man started to reply, but the woman cut in, barking, "Who is this?"

"My name is Simon Blackquill," he answered. "The Chief Prosecutor allowed me to come by to speak with the phantom. Am I to assume you are the Interpol agents who will talk to him?"

The woman snorted and looked away. "Will? We've tried, but that dense, daft, doofish-"

"He's being unusually tight-lipped, and we can't exactly do normal means to get him to talk, as he's hospitalised and under intense watch," the man translated. "It's gotten rather frustrating for us, so we stepped outside for a moment to calm down."

"Allow me an attempt."

They both looked over. The woman then just said, "No."

"You may record our conversation if you wish," Simon offered. "I have dealt with the phantom for a near year. You cannot be sure of what might happen."

"This is Interpol _only,_" she answered, grinding her teeth.

"Interpol is obviously unable to extract any answers," he retorted. "You may calm and you may try again, but do you honestly believe it will work? If the phantom is not speaking now, it is unlikely responses will emerge soon."

The man put a hand on the woman's shoulder. He dragged her away for a brief chat. Simon picked up pieces. He was trying to convince her to let Simon help. He went over the main points. They weren't getting anything, he was offering to help, it was a new chance, they could easily ask for verification of being a prosecutor, and that if anything, they'd be spared more frustration while he had to deal with it. And after some deliberation, they came back. A few procedures were taken. Simon's prosecuting badge was checked, Edgeworth was called to verify he was even allowed to speak with the phantom as claimed, a few checks with higher-ups if it was allowed, and he was set-up to have their conversation recorded.

"I suppose we weren't given an exact definition on how or what to find out," the man thought aloud. "We were told to see how willing he'd be and given some questions we could ask. Actual interrogations won't start until he's released, but she has a different agenda." He glanced to his female partner who hadn't entirely soothed her rage. He then handed Simon a list, saying, "Take this. It was what we were told we could try asking."

Simon took in the list, giving some kind of word of promise to try and get what he could. He glanced over the list. Nothing to what he planned to speak about, but maybe if the time came up, he'd try asking about it. Not that it'd go anywhere. That man in there was not the phantom. That was what he was going to find out through one way or another. It may not be what Interpol wanted, but they ought to know about the phony as well. And the recording would be useful. That way, he could have a confession to shove in Edgeworth's face about it. He was not lying, or dreaming, as much as he would've liked it to be. They did not arrest the phantom.

* * *

Simon came into the room in quiet. The phantom was lying on a bed, staring idly at a wall. They didn't look over as he entered, nor as he entered and sat down. They hardly even looked over as Simon gave some kind of stiff greeting, only glancing before focusing forward. And the two sat there in some sort of silent awkwardness, Simon staring at the phantom while the phantom looked at the wall. And they remained there for a while, before Simon spoke again.

"You are not the phantom."

The phantom laid there for a minute they finally looked over. So stubbornly, they wore Fulbright's face. They had none to call their own, after all, so this guise just was the easiest he could sum up. But those eyes were different than before, cold and sterile of anything beside blankness. They quirked up an eyebrow, though, asking, "I'm not, am I?" A smile came on their face. It was likely false, more for intimidation, but Simon didn't care.

"You covered for them." The phantom's blankness was met as best as Simon could manage. "Whoever you are, you are not the phantom."

"Wouldn't you just love that?" They were mocking him now.

Simon's hands fisted. "It's easy to fake fingerprint data. You did so yourself with Cykes-dono's prints. Why is it impossible for Fool Bright?"

Tension started to build in the air. "It's not," the phantom conceded. "But, can you prove that? What do you lawyers like to say? Evidence is everything?"

He hesitated. He couldn't prove that. Not at the moment, anyways. Simon let teeth sink into his cheek before he answered, "Suppose you are the phantom. Would you mind answering me a few questions then, _phantom?_"

"Hmph." They closed their eyes. "The same as the agents, I suppose?"

"Who do you work for?"

Silence.

"Why is it you won't answer?"

"Don't I have a right to remain silent?" They looked at Blackquill. They were making fun of him again. "I should not be forced to say something if it will incriminate me."

Simon could tell why that woman had been agitated so thoroughly. But he remained composed. He wouldn't let this fake get the better of him. Instead, he pointed out, "It is either that you say so now or deal with whatever Interpol has in mind to drive answers out of you." He then tacked on sarcastically, "Or do you not even know?"

There was a very long quiet.

"You're saying you don't."

The phantom looked away. "I don't have names."

"You're lying."

They glanced back over. "Pardon?"

"You know," he asserted. "That, or you can't answer because you're not the phantom."

A small laughter came out of the phantom. "You sound so pathetic," they mused, eyes slanting. "You're refusing your prize after seven years. Seven long years in prison, waiting, working against all odds and knowing death was right around the corner… Why is that?"

"Because it's insulting we've captured a fake," he retorted. "The phantom during the trial was me. If the phantom we arrested was dressed as Fulbright, then it was not the right person."

"Surely you jest." They almost looked entertained by Simon's floundering. "The phantom was you? Are you hearing what you're saying?"

"I am hearing what I am saying very well." He never moved his eyes. "The only jest here is you," a pause, "Fool Bright."

"I have his face because I can't recall my own, as with my voice." They shook their head, looking away again. "I am not your precious Fulbright."

"You are."

"The good detective is dead," the phantom reminded, looking over. "Surely you were told of that when you gathered what even happened during the trial?"

Simon's will, however, was steeled. "It could be faked," he reminded. "Recall what I said about fingerprints. If that is all we're IDing with, that is very easy to fabricate."

"My blood was on the moon rock." They were sneering now. "Why was _my_ blood on the moon rock if I'm Fulbright? He isn't the one who killed your mentor. That was me. How would the phantom fa-"

"_Silence,_" he snarled, eyes growing harsher than normal. He was boiling on the inside. Anyone could notice that much. He was beyond angry; and the last time he was, he had dragged Fulbright out for a walk. "Enough of your games."

"Games?" They closed their eyes and faced the wall again. A horribly loud silence filled the room as the two sat. Only breathing could be heard, mostly Simon's while he attempted to control his temper. And after a while of that, they asked, "Why do you suspect I am not the phantom?"

"You are well aware of why," he asserted.

"Tell me anyways."

"Because I was captured. I was captured and replaced with that devil- The real phantom." Simon didn't move the gaze he suspected that the phony phantom could feel. "You tell _me,_ Fool Bright," he started, saying the name with hatred. "Who was the man who stood as prosecutor?"

"Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, of course!"

"I said enough of your games."

"I'm not lying."

Simon gritted his teeth. "That thing in court was not me."

They looked over. "And where's your evidence of that, Blackquill?" They held steady. "If you can't prove that, your claims have no hold."

He wanted to scream. This was surely a tough man to crack for a secret. But if he wanted proof, he might just have something. So he stood up and calmly began to undo the buttons on his overshirt. The phantom let out a revolted grunt and looked away. Simon paid him no need. He just took his arm out of the mess before grabbing his sleeve and pulling it up as high as he could. He then held it out, saying, "Look, Fool Bright."

With reluctance, they rolled over. They stared at his arm. "It has a bandage."

Simon took it and ripped it off, not even flinching. Dried red was around it, and he explained, "I was given an injection to make me sleep. Seeing as I was resisting, it was far from easy. Tell me, Fool Bright, why else I would have this?"

"So the prison gave you a shot and had an error, or maybe Taka accidentally did it." The phantom shrugged. "You can sue the prison if you want. That isn't proof."

Simon began to put his clothes back together. He shouldn't have expected it to be so easy. But the issue was that he didn't really have other proof. So he thought for a minute, trying to sum up some kind of proof of his encounter. He wasn't really injured. That single mess-up the phantom had was the only bodily evidence. But without proof, he couldn't get the phantom to admit that they weren't the phantom. So he thought. He thought long and hard, hoping to come up with something. Anything, really, that would be decisive.

Yet after a while in silence, the phantom concluded, "You have nothing."

"That is-"

"Blackquill."

He looked back. "Chief Prosecutor. What has called you here?"

His arms were folded. "I assumed you would be here still. I needed to speak with the agents, but I also need you to come back to the office as soon as you can."

"I should be finished shortly," he answered, looking back to the phantom. "I have a question, though, if you do not mind."

Edgeworth pushed up his glasses. "Make it brief."

"What was the shop we went to last night? The name has slipped my mind."

"Eldoon's Noodles," he answered with uncertainty. "Are you sure you're quite all right, Blackquill? Or was not that memorable to you?"

"It was lost in the haze of the night. Thank you, Chief Prosecutor."

He looked carefully to the two, and said, "Be sure to stay on track, and wrap up as fast as you can." He then turned to leave.

"Wait. Chief Prosecutor, I need to call Wright-dono."

Edgeworth looked back.

"As I do not own a phone, may I borrow yours?"

There was a long pause. "Is this related to what you're doing?"

Simon nodded. "I am unable to leave right now; you're well aware why. He has something of mine I find myself needed. Taka will be able to fetch it, but I need him to be able to gather it and give it if he is available to."

And there was some kind of grumbled wait, before Edgeworth grudgingly agreed. Simon let himself step out by the doors, eyed by the agents, and called. The phone rang for a little bit before it was picked up.

"_Edgeworth?"_

"I am Blackquill. I am borrowing his phone."

There was hesitance. "_Okay. What do you need?"_

"The receipt from last night."

"_What, do you plan to pay for it?"_

"Do not assume. It has come up as… needed as part of an investigation."

"_Uh… I think I have it in my bag…"_ There was silence, and then some shuffling. A minute later, Phoenix reported, "_I have it."_

"Good. May I send Taka over to retrieve it?"

Whatever fear Phoenix had about that shone through in his hesitance. "_I… guess. I'm at the agency right now."_

"Excellent. He will be there soon. I'll have it returned when I am done. Thank you, Wright-dono."

"_No problem…"_

The phone was hung up and returned. Taka was deployed.

Edgeworth shook his head. "I don't know how this is relevant, but I suppose I also didn't see the before-situation."

"I have one last question about last night," Blackquill announced.

"You really _didn't_ sleep."

"Perhaps not. There was something unusual with what I ordered… a spice, or some sort?"

"Yes, you asked for something to be added. I don't know what, but you had Wright and his friends poking fun at you for it," he recalled. "Not that you really _cared,_ you ate it rather happily anyway… I have to be going now. You should be too."

Simon nodded, watching the sky. "I will soon."

And with that, Edgeworth left. Taka came back a bit later, the receipt in his claws. Simon took it and looked it over. It was a longer list, and he read it as he came back to the room. He sat down, eyes still going over it. He then folded it and handed it to the phantom.

"And this means?" was the obvious-coming question.

"I've taken the liberty of finding my order. I'm sure you heard what the Chief Prosecutor said, Fool Bright?" He refused to look at the other.

"Your point being?"

"There is nothing else like it on there."

"This doesn't tell me you were kidnapped."

"I wonder, Fool Bright. Haven't we been to that shop before?"

The phantom raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"You dragged me there after a trial, despite a good amount of protest. I humored you and ordered those noodles."

"This is going nowhere."

"Tell me something, Fool Bright." Simon finally looked at him. "Why would I order that again and, to quote the Chief Prosecutor, enjoy those noodles I declared were revolting the first time I had them?"

The list was tossed back. Eyes looked away. "You lied about not liking them."

"Doubtful, Fool Bright," he answered. "Even you showed to not like them when I had you try some. Or did you think your tricking worked?"

No answer was given, except, "So you ordered gross noodles. You have a cut on your arm. This doesn't mean you were kidnapped.

"By itself, no," Simon admitted, "it proves little beyond I acted oddly."

"You were free from prison. You had reason."

"There is one last thing."

The phantom looked over. "What could that be?"

Simon pocketed the bill and looked at the fake phantom. "I was going to give you something before the trial; something Taka was holding. Answer me this, Fool Bright: Why was it presented by me as evidence in court? You abruptly said you had to leave after looking at the clock, and that is when I was switched with the phantom. Those papers never made it to your hands, when I could have passed them off in the lobby?"

Oh, it was a lie. It was an outright lie. Simon would have never trusted anyone but himself and Taka with the phantom's psych profile, but he had meant to give Fulbright something. That was his hawk's bandanna. He'd expected the trial to end with him still as a murderer in the world's eyes, so out of some pity-bout to the detective's boo-hooing, he was going to pass off a keepsake. But this man didn't have to know.

And they didn't. They looked away and grinded their teeth. They stayed looking away as Simon prompted, "So, Fool Bright, are you ready to admit it?"

They still wouldn't look over. But at the very least, they muttered, "So, the phantom decided not to kill you…"

"You're not the phantom," Simon asserted.

Their eyes closed. "Nobody's about to believe that."

His hands fisted. "You admit it."

His eyes opened. "Nobody's about to believe that."

A long silence befell the two. Simon had his answer, and yet…

"Who are you really, then?"

"You seem to know."

Simon looked the other way and let out some kind of bitter laugh. He already knew the secret identity. He held a smile on his face, but it wasn't the good kind. The "phantom" looked the other way, at least seeming ashamed.

"I haven't the foggiest idea how you pulled that off," Simon said after sitting there for a while. His head turned to the other. When he spoke, his voice was pained. Something that had been heard before, but was cringe-inducingly unfitting. "But _why_ did you, Fool Bright?"

Fulbright looked back over. He owed that at least. The prosecutor's hard gaze had returned, but there was still that smile. The most he could really explain himself with was simply, "Because not everyone is safe." He then looked back to the wall. The voice was quiet, as if it might have never really existed at all. But it had, and that somehow made it worse.

* * *

Simon had walked into Edgeworth's office in a resolve. He was going to prove the phantom was far from the actual one. The confession was useful evidence. Simon had even tried to pry out some of the other things, like what the agents wanted to know. But it didn't render much useful, just attempts that fell apart. An awkward leave was soon taken, and ended him up where he was now: Talking to Edgeworth as requested.

"Do you believe this is decisive?" he asked, bluntly put humoring Simon anymore.

"He admitted it himself."

"Detective Fulbright is _dead,_ Blackquill," Edgeworth reminded. "I don't like it. You don't like it. No one does, but that fact remains. You're letting yourself be pulled by desires of what you want to be true, and he's taking advantage of that."

"He's _not,_" he tried to argue, but was cut off.

"I'll have no more of this."

There was a very long silence that filled the room. Simon had looked up, taking paused breaths. And then, after a bit, "May I have your permission to look into the matter?"

"You won't let it drop, will you?" Edgeworth opened one of his desk drawers, shuffling for a file. "I suppose there's no harm in it, so long as your real work is prioritised. I highly doubt that the phantom is telling the truth, but if it will sate you, have at it."

"Thank you, Chief Prosecutor," Simon said, giving a straight face. On the inside, though, he's happy. And maybe some relieved. It wouldn't be overly hard to get information, he expected, especially now that he was a full prosecutor again. Maybe socially he was adjusting, but these were things that didn't have to wait. But with that done, he dared remind, "You summoned me here to the first place. What was that about?"

Edgeworth found the file and set it on the desk. "It's an interesting coincidence you want to look into if we even have the phantom. He may be dealt with by Interpol, but he was ultimately arrested here. He has the right to a trial. Blackquill, you and someone else will be serving as the prosecutors for this case. As it's very unique, the decision has been made to put two on the case. It will be done as a bigger project among other, smaller and more normal cases."

Despite it being unexpected, Simon would by lying if he said he was shocked. He just gave a nod, asking, "Who exactly is the other prosecutor?"

"She should be here very soon," Edgeworth promised. "She's no short of being very intelligent, but I should warn you of something."

"That is?"

"Miles!"

"You'll see." Edgeworth looked over. "Hello!"

Simon turned around. Someone new had entered. It was a woman about his age (though much shorter), dressed in tight-fitting clothing. She had silvery-blue hair that went to her shoulders, some kind of heels that probably made her taller than she was, and a whip in her hands.

… A what?

She held an amused grin as she looked at Blackquill. "Who are you?"

"My name is Simon Blackquill," he introduced. That face looked rather familiar, but he was struggling to give it a name. He gave a nod which became a bit of a bow. "You are?"

"I am Franziska von Karma." She gave a bow of her own, but much more dramaticised. She held her hands out and seemed to balance on a single foot, putting more of her body into it. She also titled herself, saying, "The prodigy."

"It is an honor to meet you, von Karma-dono." He eyed her over. She seemed regal. She was certainly proud. That much was obvious from her stance alone. There was some kind of air of calmness yet firm authority or power about her. The most he likely gave off was rudeness.

"As it is lovely to meet you as well," she returned flawlessly before turning to Edgeworth. She addressed, "Miles," securing her whip in both hands. "You wouldn't not explain enough over the phone. I hope what you have is important for me to fly from Germany."

"Did you pack to stay a while?" he asked almost casually.

He was answered by being whipped. Franziska then said simply, "Miles."

"Yes, I have an important assignment." The area was lightly rubbed but soon ignored. "I told you how we were chasing the phantom. We've caught him, and I want you and Blackquill to be the prosecutors for it."

She looked to the man before looking back. He was whipped again. She then turned to Simon and declared, "You too!" before striking him as well. Much less adjusted to it, Simon recoiled, gripping his arm where it had hit.

"Might I ask what that was for?" he said through gritted teeth.

Franziska looked at Edgeworth. "Are you saying I'm incapable of handling this alone?"

"No, Franziska."

"Then why is he helping?"

"Four hands are better than two, and two minds are better than one, regardless of what that mind contains and those hands can do." He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, expression relatively blank. "This is a large case, and we want things to run as smooth and quick as possible, even if it means having a helper." He moved forth the file on his desk. "You two might get along better than you think. For now, this is what has been gathered. It's not a lot; this man has no name or face, but it's our starting point."

Franziska picked up the file before Simon could hardly even look at it. She began reading, asking, "Where shall I work?"

Edgeworth's arms folded. "We don't have an office for you right now. Blackquill can share his with you."

She looked up. She was insulted.

"It hasn't even been a day since the phantom was arrested," he reminded quickly. "I'll have something arranged soon."

* * *

The sun was falling by the time Simon wrapped up for the day. He only had a few hours left, anyways. His signal was one bright, chipper Athena Cykes coming into his office, calling out his name. Lucky her, Franziska was gone for the moment.

"Cykes-dono," he greeted, looking up from the papers.

She grinned and gave a V-sign. "Nice office! Kind of barren, but I'm sure you'll put a bunch of neat stuff in it soon!"

He glanced around. He'd only just gotten it. Simon looked to Athena, asking, "Why have you come here?"

"You act like I'm not allowed! And it took a bit to get in here, too." She almost seemed to pout, but quickly perked up. "Is work not over, or something?"

He looked at a clock and set the pencil in his hand down. "It nearly so is, yes."

"Great!" She grinned. "We can leave soon, then!"

"You have something for the young types?"

The two looked over. Franziska had walked back in. Simon shook his head at her words, standing up. "She is like a little sister to me, von Karma-dono."

"Who are you?" Athena asked.

"I am Franziska von Karma." She looked smug, per usual. "I am a prosecuting prodigy."

Athena nodded and smiled. "My name's Athena Cykes. It's nice to meet you!" She held out a hand. It was taken and shaken. She then turned back to Simon, saying, "What are you doing, anyways? Do you really get cases so fast?"

The file before him was closed. "Yes," he answered plainly. He had no reason to tell her much beyond that. Not with Franziska around, anyways.

"And you're going to leave me here to finish?" Speaking of Franziska.

"There is nothing else to work on, von Karma-dono. Hopefully we will have more information tomorrow, but it is the first day of many." He began to put things away, taking care to have then be neat and tidy.

"Back to the Wright Anything Agency then!" Athena announced when he was done.

Franziska quirked an eyebrow. "Wright… Anything Agency?"

Simon looked over. "Yes. I currently do not have a home, so they have been kind enough to allow me to stay there until I have secured an apartment or some sort. I am in much of their debt." He'd heard Phoenix making a joke or two about Simon having to pay rent. He probably would if it was made official. It was a start to all he owed them.

Athena shrugged it off. "Let's go back for now. We can get something to eat on the way there as well. You don't look like you've had anything yet."

He hadn't even had lunch. The thought of eating didn't exactly occur to him much. A lot had happened for his first day back- perhaps too much. He'd manage. He had to if he wanted to find out the truth behind that poisoned trial.

For now, though, the only truth he wanted was what dinner was. Athena took off racing, only stopping when she wasn't followed. She looked back and made a face before coming back over. The two then made their way back to Simon's temporary home.


	2. II: Broken

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

_I'm quietly screaming over here. I figured no one would notice this story, so thank you to those who have read it._

_At the review I got (feelthesarcasm): I'm afraid Franziska and Simon aren't going to be very large on their interactions. They're going to be scenes with them, but they're not super important or too large of a focus. Fran won't be too central until the coming trial, really. But I have a lot of headcanons about them that are gonna shine through in this. Whoops._

_I actually had this written already. I dunno why I didn't put it up as well. I'm about 1/2 way done with chapter 3. I'd finish it now, but I've got the worst headache ever. So look out for the next chapter. It'll be here in a few days!_

* * *

The Wright Anything Agency had calmed down from any earlier activity by the time Simon and Athena got there. However, it'd taken then a lot longer than expected to get home. At least, that's what the look Trucy gave was when they entered the door. She set down the cleaner in her hands and turned around, rather surprised.

"Hey, Trucy!" Athena said with a smile. "I'm back!"

"I was starting to think you'd gone home and taken Mr. Blackquill with you!" she shared, coming over. "What took so long?"

"We got dinner is all," she explained. She then gave a look to Simon, who was standing somewhat uncomfortably. "Also, he doesn't really have any clothes, so we went and got some." She then reached into a bag of her own, and pulled out a pack of pudding cups. She passed it off to Trucy, saying, "I got you this as well."

It was accepted along with a gracious, "Thanks, Athena. Are you gonna go home, then?"

She nodded. "My kitty's probably pretty hungry by now. I'll see you later, Trucy!"

"Bye!"

Athena looked over to Simon as she began to head out the door. "Oh, by the way, Prose-" She stopped herself, and gave a large smile. "Simon! Try to relax! No one here is about to bite your head off, so enjoy it, okay?"

He stiffened. Was it honestly that obvious? His hands fiddled with the bags it held as the door shut. Trucy didn't seem to notice as she faced Blackquill, smiling. Hands were behind her back and she was bouncing, happy about something. He offered a faint smile, attempting to take Athena's advice, but the lack of genuinity made Trucy laugh.

"Don't strain yourself!" she teased.

Great, now he was being picked on by the kid. He attempted to ignore it, just asking, "Where has Wright-dono gone?" The man wasn't in visible view.

She folded her arms, looking away as she thought. "I think daddy's in the other room. He might've fallen asleep. It looked like he was the last time I checked."

Simon gave a nod, moving to the area they'd set-up in a hurry for him to sleep at last night. Not that he really recalled that; he'd been locked away in darkness. He settled down as best he could, sorting through the garments bought. It was only a couple of days worth of change, but it was a start, at least. What he needed above all else was a house he could call his own. He'd have to get searching soon. For now, though, neither Phoenix nor Trucy were particularly bothered by his presence. It didn't stop him from acting like they were.

He looked up, noticing Trucy watch him. She panicked and went back to cleaning some of her magic props. He looked back down, and a minute later, he asked, "Am I bothering you?"

She sat up straight. "What do you mean?"

"You are continually eyeing me," he noted, folding the shirt in his hands.

"No I wasn't."

"We met gaze."

"That was one time."

"The fool would not be able to know you've looked up since then." He set the shirt down and looked to her. "Am I bothering you?"

"Well…" The word was dragged for a moment before she suddenly got up and half ran over. She then reported with a bright glint in her eyes, "I was thinking about a magic trick I'd be able to do with your hair."

"Do you plan to have it disappear or something?" he mused.

Trucy shook her head. "No, but it's perfect for having stuff disappear in it. Kind of like my magic panties!"

"Your… what?"

"My magic panties!" She got the happiest look anyone could have imagined. She then darted away, picking up these panties and coming back over. "Anything can go in or out of them. I like to pull geese out of it."

He gave her a bit of a worried look. "Refrain from… releasing your geese at this time, if you would."

"We can't loose the goose?"

"No."

She made a pouting face. "That's boring, though."

Simon shook his head a bit. Trucy was something else; that was for sure.

"Well, hand me something!" she grinned. "I'm gonna show you what my magic panties can do anyway."

He gave her a bit of a distrusting look before glancing around. He then picked up a clothing tag, asking, "Is this all right?"

She took it. "It's boring, but it'll do!" She then put it inside the panties. They were tapped three times, her calling the numbers along with it, before they were suddenly flipped inside out. She then gave a grin. "It's gone!"

He looked distrustingly at the pair of panties. "Then where did it go?"

Trucy got a devious look, turning them right-side out. "A magician never reveals her secrets," she shared. "But if you want it back, I can get it for you." Then, without waiting, she did much of what she had before. The panties were tapped three times, but she reached inside this time. Her hand came out the other end, holding the tag. The panties were pulled off, and she gave him it. "Here you go!"

He accepted the tag back, setting it beside him. "That is certainly a unique ability," he remarked, trying to form logic of what just happened.

"I've got a whole ton of magic stuff here," she said. "Do you wanna come see?"

Simon could recall a lot of odd get-up in the office. He didn't quite understand what it all was, but the girl, from what he knew, was a magician; it'd only be natural. Without much else to do, he rose to his feet, answering, "I suppose."

Trucy needed no other cue. She quickly came back over to what she had laid out. She then turned around, picking up a sword. "Sit down, and watch the great Trucy Wright amaze you!" she ordered, pointing to the couch beside her. When Simon sat, she said, "Now watch! This is my magic sword trick! It's a normal sword by all means!" She even hit the side of it to Simon's arm lightly to prove it. "But watch this!"

A moment later, and she plunged the sword into her heart. Simon about leapt to his feet, but she said, "Don't worry!" She then pulled it out. No mark was left on her body, and the sword was clean. "I'm all right!" She let out a laugh at seeing him still rather rattled. "It's a magic trick," she assured. "Why aren't I hurt? It's up to your imagination, and a little belief in strange things!"

Simon couldn't comment if he wanted. Trucy laughed again and set the sword down, picking up something for her next trick.

The two were interrupted, however, as the door was opened. Both looked over. Someone had walked in, taller than Trucy by a few inches. Trucy gave a wave, saying, "Hello! Welcome to the Wright Anything Agency!"

"I wasn't sure if this place was open," the newcomer spoke. They walked in, standing in the room for a moment before asking, "Are one of you two Phoenix Wright?"

"No, but I can go get him," Trucy offered. "Wait just a moment!"

Simon glanced to a window. The sun was about set. They must've come right before the offices were about to close. He offered a nod of a greeting, but the red-haired stranger didn't seem to hold much interest in talking to him.

A couple of minutes went by, and Phoenix came out of the room, giving a greeting to the stranger. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes. My name is Adrian. Adrian Cowell. I… need a defense attorney for my sister's case, but I don't believe public defenders will be able to help her."

Phoenix nodded. "Would you care to come into my office so we can talk?"

The two left. The night tamed, and Trucy's magic show stopped. Simon decided to go to bed, but he didn't exactly sleep.

* * *

The office the next day was as busy as ever. Simon came in and was almost immediately handed the first case he'd be officially prosecuting since being free. He might have been assigned to the phantom's case, but he wasn't likely to end up actually prosecuting for a while. So for now, he came into his office, Franziska already there. Someone named "David Cowell" had been arrested. The name looked familiar, but he gave it not a lot of thought. He just set it on the desk and gave a greeting to Franziska. He then sat down, looking directly to her. Her face was buried with the case.

"Hello, Mr. Simon Blackquill," she said, not looking up. "What have you brought in?"

"What appears to be my first case since returning." Someone had been murdered at a high school. It was a social worker named Linda Schwartz. The person arrested was one of the kids there, a senior, but 18 years old. He'd been the last one with Ms. Schwartz as far as it was known, and had a notorious hatred of her. It seemed clean-cut enough.

"Returning?" Franziska repeated. "So you are the jailbird prosecutor…"

Well, that was a new title. He was used to "twisted samurai", donned on him by Apollo and caught on by others. Simon looked up. "If that is what my nickname is, then yes, that would be me. Have I been so lucky as to hit international news?"

"No." Short, flat, and to the point. How like her to do that. "Miles had mentioned you over the phone one day, but had not told me your name."

Because she had such a reputation to throw around. He didn't know a lot before actually meeting her. He'd heard stories, even watched a case she prosecuted one time, but those memories were long-buried among many others. What he could recall was that she was merciless above all else. She had an inflated ego and a temper strong enough to knock over a mountain. If Edgeworth had put them together hoping they'd get along, he was likely to be wrong. This woman didn't seem to have a lot of room for bonding. Or if so, she'd scorned the idea of it with coworkers. That was all he could hope to infer, anyways.

Simon gathered a couple of things up and got to his feet. "Is there anything I should do concerning the phantom's case while I am out?"

"Not at this moment," she answered, still eyeing over the papers before her.

He gave a nod. "I will leave you to work, then." They were barely starting and she was already taking over as the more leading prosecutor of the two. Not that he really minded. It left him more room for his own business.

"One moment," she called. Simon turned around. She had looked up. "The phantom has been released from the hospital. He is currently in the detention center, and rather heavily guarded. I expect Interpol will be dealing with him at this time."

'Thank you." Simon turned away and left. He had to head to the crime scene soon, but a little delay wouldn't hurt. The lead detective was a woman named "Ema Skye", who if rumor-told-true would be particularly unpleasant to deal with.

So instead, Simon opted to look into something that was bothering him. That was the supposedly dead Fulbright's fingerprints. It had been the way they ID'd the body. If it was wrong, then there was no way anyone could declare him dead. So Simon came to the police department, going in to gather what he needed. No one would particularly question him. He was a prosecutor and assigned to the phantom's case. It was bound to be simple evidence-collecting in their eyes.

Soon enough, he gathered the data, storing it and looking to a clock. Not a lot of time had passed, but it was enough to where he needed to head to his real destination already. He ducked out the door and got a cab. That was something else he had to do among getting an apartment. He needed to get transportation. He handed money to the driver as he left the car. It could wait.

* * *

The detention center felt empty as Simon dismissed talking to David Cowell. The man was apparently the brother to the Adrian who had come to the Wright Anything Agency the night before. Simon gave it not much thought, frankly, and had addressed the man like he would anyone else. Naturally, David denied killing Ms. Schwartz. Simon pulled what he could from the arrested and went on his way. But, he had one last thing to do before he left, defined by when he sat down in front of the fake phantom.

Simon wasted little time in getting to purpose. He brought out what he'd snagged earlier in the day- the fingerprints belonging to "Fulbright" -and set it down. He then explained, "The first step to clearing up this mess is to prove that you are alive. If we can successfully accomplish that, then the possibility that you are not the phantom can start to come to light."

Bobby gave a nod, holding an uncharacteristically serious face. It was something Simon had rarely seen before. Typically, when the man was pushed into some kind of very harsh patch or if his teasing was too much would it be drawn out. Even then it was no promise. Breaking his merry atmosphere was an accomplishment to boast. "How do you plan to do that?" he asked, fisted hands on his waist.

"If the reason your "body" was identified was because they found matching fingerprints, then we simply must prove that these are yours. At the very least, they must be proven to not be from the hand of "Fool Bright"." Simon rested a hand on the document he'd gathered much earlier in the day. "This is the fingerprint data. We run it to yours, and if they match, then the possibility of you not being dead may exist."

"I… love the idea, Prosecutor Blackquill, but…" He eyed away from Simon. His hands fell from his sides and his index fingers pressed together. They played lightly.

"But?" Simon prompted, picking up on the man's troubles. Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn't too horribly effect what he was doing.

It was then that Bobby raised up one of those hands, putting it on the glass to be looked at. Simon stared at it. He looked it over a couple of times, before picking up on what was being communicated. His fingertips were bare. He had no fingerprints. Through one way or another, they had been removed from his hand. Bobby pulled it away and began futzing with his fingers again.

The two went quiet for a bit, thinking. If Fulbright didn't have fingerprints, there was little ways that the two could be matched. Simon's fingers rasped lightly on the desk. He then asked, "Whose fingerprints are these in the first place?"

Fulbright looked to him. "They're mine. There wasn't a lot of time to get everything ready, so mine were just removed so this couldn't happen. After all, if they match, then it's obvious I'm not dead or there was some kind of error."

They were quiet again. Simon tapped the paper again. Despite doing everything last-minute, the phantom certainly had everything under control. It was frustrating and perfect; just what they would've wanted.

"Prosecutor Blackquill?"

Simon looked up. Hands had returned to Fulbright's sides, but he didn't look a lot happier. Stopping his finger, Simon prompted, "What is it?"

"Do you think you should cut your hair?" And like that, he wore a grin.

The question was surprising, to say the least. Simon gave him a curious look, and repeated him in saying, "Cut my hair?"

He nodded. "You're not an inmate anymore. It's time you got a new look!"

Simon reached a self-conscious hand to his hair, running a finger through a small grab. It didn't run easily; his hair hadn't gotten a proper brushing in a long while, and Taka liked to sit in it when he could, which didn't really help. But it wasn't like it was unclean or anything. He put forth effort to at least manage that. And so he turned his head and said, "I see no need."

Fulbright let out a small laugh. "It'd just make you seem friendlier is all. There's no need to keep your "hardened criminal" look anymore, you know."

A pause, and then, "Hmph. I quite like it."

He was given a nod and then assured, "It was only a suggestion."

Something about this was becoming increasingly familiar. Simon looked back to Fulbright, and his mind came up with a single memory. In one of the first few days they'd spent together, he'd been asked about his hair. His reason then was that there weren't any barbers in prison. That didn't stand now, but he still wasn't about to trash his look. Simon raised an eyebrow, but let the subject drop. He then said, "We need to figure out a way to prove these fingerprints are yours."

"Oh, right!" Fulbright went quiet, thinking about that. His feet shifted, and he asked, "What about the other cases I've done? My data will be on them."

Simon shook his head. "I would have said that a while ago if it was an option, but seeing as you were labeled as dead and fake, it was removed from the database. We don't have it."

"Hm…" Fulbright continued to think for a little while. He then said, "Well, I don't know if Mr. Wright would have it still, but there's the fingerprint data I collected so the lighter would seem to match up right."

Simon tossed him a look. "Have it still?"

Bobby frowned. "I gave him a copy of the fake fingerprint data. It seems unreliable, yes, but the only false data actually on there is Ms. Cykes and Mr. Terran's prints."

Another lost look.

"During the trial, it was revealed that the fingerprint data I collected was false." Bobby frowned. "I guess no one told you that."

"Gathering information is harder than it seems without raising alarm," he answered simply. "But, it is convenient you brought the trial up. I want to know what happened, and I assumed it best to hear right from our star witness."

And from there, the conversation dissolved into a story. Simon brought out a notepad and paper, writing down some things as Fulbright talked. Particular details weren't mentioned unless asked, but Simon learned a lot more than he had before. He glanced up every now and again, sometimes speaking, but for a good while he only listened. The story was recorded as well, but more so Simon had something to look back on. And when Fulbright finished, Simon began to wrap up their conversation.

"I'll see if Wright-dono has the data," he promised. "If enough correct matches can be made, most will use logic to piece together that yours matches as well."

"You could try looking in old case files to see if fingerprint data was tossed in there as well," Bobby recommended. "There's no promises, but it's all we have to work with."

Simon nodded. "I'll see what can be done. Goodbye," a pause, "Fool Bright."

* * *

The Wright Anything Agency had more people than the night before when Simon walked in. Trucy was there per usual, cooking something while Apollo sorted through shelved books. He looked back as he pushed one into place, looking at Simon. He gave a greeting and walked over. His arms folded, and he asked, "Has work ended early, or something?"

"Afraid not," Simon answered, casting a look to the side. "I will be likely to be staying late tonight. I do, however, need something from here."

"And what's that?" A finger was pressed between Apollo's eyes. "Mr. Wright isn't here right now, nor is Athena, but I can probably help if you need it."

Phoenix wasn't here. How troubling. But, since Apollo was offering, Simon answered, "I need to know if he has the forged print data made by Fool- the phantom."

"I can check," he offered, beginning to walk toward Phoenix's office. "Why do you need it, if I can ask?"

Simon followed, giving a greeting to Trucy as they passed by her. "I have been assigned as one of the two prosecutors who are working on the phantom's case. Any and all evidence from the trial a couple of days ago is relevant to it, Justice-dono."

"They're going to prosecute him already?" Apollo looked back in surprise.

He shook his head. "As of now, we're more of organizing data and attempting to learn what we can from the phantom. Naturally, they aren't very willing to speak, but it has been a short amount of time. Interpol has gotten involved, so it is bound to take much longer than normal to have a trial."

"Oh." Apollo looked forward again, opening a file cabinet and pulling out an open box. It had various objects inside, and he explained, "We just ended up throwing leftover and unneeded evidence in here. If we have the fingerprint data, it's going to be in this box." He then began to dig through it, pulling out different things and setting them on the desk. Simon eyed over them if it was anything else he'd need, but it didn't appear that way. Eventually, Apollo pulled out a clipboard. He looked it over before coming to Simon and handing it over, saying, "Here it is."

"Thank you, Justice-dono," he said graciously, storing it away for now.

He smiled. "No problem!" His arms folded. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"At this time, no." Amusement worked on to Simon's face, and he asked, "Are you bored, Justice-dono? You seem very eager to have even the littlest task."

Apollo recoiled. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled. "Yes, it is."

For whatever they would have liked to say next, they were interrupted by a rather agitated Athena coming into the office, shouting, "Why is this happening?"

The two looked over. Apollo came out first, asking, "What's happening?"

"It's Widget!" she explained rather poorly. "It's not working right. I mean, look at it! It's still a normal color when it should be red right now! I'm mad!" Her foot stomped on the ground. "I don't know if it's broken or something, but it shouldn't be doing this."

"Maybe it froze?" he suggested.

"Widget isn't a computer."

"It's technology, Athena. My phone freezes sometimes. The TV freezes sometimes." He then remembered, "You've had Widget for a long time. It might be starting to wear down."

She only looked more cross. "It doesn't do that, Apollo."

He put his hands up. "It was only a suggestion. Try just taking a look at it. Maybe it was bumped and is acting weird because of that."

"I guess." She folded her arms. "It's just weird. It was acting fine until yesterday."

Whatever conversation followed wasn't heard by Simon, as he quickly ducked out the door with Athena being distracted. He had the print data. The next thing he had to do was compare samples in it to ones that had been gathered. He was already well-aware that Clay's and Athena's were switched, but if he could just get his hands on some of the others and maybe past records of Fulbright, he could start to put together just everything that went down.

But as he walked down the street, he was stopped by a voice shouting out, "Mr. Blackquill!" He turned around, seeing Trucy a bit down the path. Her hands in fists, she called out, "Try not to stay too late! I'm cooking something new, and I want as many opinions as I can get on it. So be sure you'll be able to try it, okay?"

He gave a nod, answering, "I will see how early I will be able to leave."

She seemed assured by that, and gave a nod, turning around and coming back into the Wright Anything Agency. Simon watched her go before he faced the other way himself and resumed his trip to the police department. He could look at past case data. Even if the chance was slim, there might have been at least some copy of Fulbright's previously gathered print data.

It didn't take very long to put together a few of the fingerprints needed. There was Wright's and Apollo's to start, going on to match up Starbuck's, Cosmos', and others. Even Athena's and Clay's mismatched prints were identified. Simon then pulled out the copy of the "deceased" Fulbright's prints, matching it along with what was on the records. Of course, anyone could easily claim they were faked, so unless he could find another print, it wouldn't be very convincing. But he documented this all, at least, and organized the data before running copies and gathering what he needed. It would've helped if he had something to take pictures with, but physical things were good, if not even better and more convincing.

The next place he'd need to go, then, was the evidence room. He stopped a few steps into it, however. There was a single issue with that room. The lockers in it were assigned to whatever detective was in charge of the case, but only they could open it. They required fingerprint recognition. Without that, it'd be near impossible to get into them. Simon felt a hand fist in frustration. About all of the cases he'd personally worked on with Fulbright were likely in there; The oldest one hadn't even a year to its name, and it was two years or older that cases were given the boot, so he couldn't go check those files. Perhaps, in a way, that helped his case. Anything too recent would've been considered likely unreliable. The phantom had been pretending to be Fulbright in their eyes.

Which left another option. He'd have to dig up an old case of Fulbright's and check it for any fingerprint data. If it was there, it was more likely to be believed. Trouble was, he didn't really know any. It was something he'd have to ask about. But, the records room would hold the real answers. If he wanted his fingerprints, they'd be in there.

For now, Simon packed up and left. He didn't know any cases Fulbright had worked on before-hand. The man sometimes mentioned them, but a lack of names was the real issue. Until he could gather that, he was at a loss. So he left the police station and went to hear about one right from the horse's mouth. It may have been past visiting hours, but it wasn't exactly hard to arrange things being a prosecutor.

Simon sat down with a bit of hard land. Fulbright was brought in not much later. He gave a smile, asking, "Have you uncovered something?"

"Nearly. I have matched several of the fingerprint data, but I lack one final piece to prove that the fingerprints are yours," he explained.

"What would that be?"

Simon leaned back in the chair he was in. "I have proven that many of the fingerprints you collected are not false. I even have Cykes-dono's and Earth Boy's little mix-up corrected. The remaining issue now is yours."

"The fingerprints didn't match?" he guessed in a horrified voice.

A hand raised up and tapped the side of Simon's head. "Think, Fool Bright," he said. "Of course they did. That alone is hardly convincing, however. It would be overly easy to claim that since this data was originally false, yours has the possibility of it as well. I will first have to prove that these prints belong to Fool Bright before I can begin to argue that you are him."

The thought was considered for a little bit. "So you'll need print data from before and after I died?"

Simon nodded. "Do you know a case where there's likely to be fingerprints?"

Fulbright thought for a bit before he smiled and nodded. "There is one case that comes to mind. It's kind of old, but it's called CO-7. Fingerprints became a large issue during it, so I'd imagine that they'd keep the records."

The name was scratched down on a notepad. "Where would the information on it be, simply in the records room?"

"I'll bet." He frowned. "It's about five or so years old? It was never really solved, but we ran out of leads, so it was just shoved aside and ignored. It's awful and unjust, but some cases are unsolvable…"

Simon glanced up. He'd depressed. The notepad was put away, and he moved on. "This process also requires a more current sample, which would be the "phantom's" prints."

"You could probably find that in the evidence room," he remembered.

"Indeed. I expect you understand the issue behind that?"

It took a minute, but Fulbright understood. He sat up straighter and blinked twice. "I didn't even think about that," he admitted. "That is an issue, and not even I can open it now… Hm." He looked away, thinking. "Well, the Chief of Police has a master-key for all of the lockers. I'm not too sure how you could convince him to let you in, though."

"Didn't I tell you, Fool Bright?" he asked as he wrote the information just told down. "I have been assigned to prosecute you."

"They're doing a trial already?!"

He quickly corrected, "Not quite. It is more of organizing and collecting information, though your refusal to talk has given issue to progress."

Bobby gave a guilty look. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't say things I don't know. I'm just saying I won't tell on whoever the phantom works for, but they find that kind of odd." He played with his fingers again. "They shot at who was the phantom, after all. It's a pretty clear sign that the phantom was given the boot."

Simon clenched a hand, saying, "Knowing Interpol, they're going to drag their answers from you whether you have them or not. I will work as fast as I can, Fool Bright, but I also have to balance it along with being a prosecutor. Ultimately, that holds priority."

He nodded. He understood, of course. By all means, it was already unusual to everyone that Simon was even doing all this. He had his phantom, now why fight back? Bobby gave a grin to Simon. "I'll be okay. You take whatever time you need. I'll start coming up with things if I have to. I hate having to lie, but…"

"But you have to," Simon concluded.

Bobby looked away, rather miserable-seeming, but gave the answer expected. He did.

"Try not to think much of it, Fool Bright. You are the phantom right now. Do not ever forget that." Simon gave a look to the side. "In any regard, is there anything in particular in your evidence locker that I should look for?"

"Well, anything likely to have my fingerprints," he said. "I think I have a pair of gloves in there, for example. I don't remember everything. Try looking. There's got to be something!"

The idea of gloves was written down. Simon then said, "After we prove that you're Fool Bright over the phantom, we will have to work on the other mysteries of how you were blamed."

"The… other mysteries, sir?"

He nodded. "From what you told me earlier, there were a few key things. First off, Cykes-dono's therapy session with you. It seems rather far-fetched that it read almost no emotion. How the phantom was able to get their hands on the psych profile is something else, as well as explaining why your blood was on the moon rock. We will also have to locate where the phantom is now. I should be able to finish up the fingerprints today or tomorrow. I suppose next will be the mystery behind the analysis of you."

Bobby offered, "If it's any help, Prosecutor Blackquill, I can at least answer that. Do you remember when I mentioned having hacked into Ms. Cykes' device? That was with the intent of setting it up so I could seem emotionless. You should have the spy gear the phantom gave me as part of evidence."

"I'll look into it," he promised, getting up. "For now, I need to finish what I have started." He then rose to his feet, exchanging farewells with Fulbright. The guard carried the inmate away while Simon began walking to the police station once more.

* * *

Gathering the prints had gone easier than anticipated. Indeed, there was a print record for the CO-7 incident. He didn't look much into the case, but filed a copy of the record for himself before he came to the Chief of Police. Unannounced or unappointed visits were usually frowned upon, but she seemed easy-going enough to not care. He gained access to Fulbright's locker, and was able to pull out a glove. The last thing he needed to do was have the fingerprints on it checked. One drop-off to the forensic lab later, and sure enough, they had Fulbright's prints on it.

Simon sat down in the chair put in his office, setting the report down. There were some other documents set on his desk, some which were Franziska's and some that were for his case. He hadn't even begun to do much work on that. He'd been caught up in his own work. Staying late was something he figured he'd end up doing, though, so he set what he'd gathered for the day aside and started working on the case renamed from just "The Cowell Case" to "TU-2".

Franziska came in some time later, with a set of stapled papers in hand. The two shared greetings before she settled down and picked up wherever she'd left off.

"Have you not been given an office?" he asked, making small talk.

"Miles said one will be ready tomorrow morning," she answered. She sorted through a few things before casting them aside. She then suddenly reached over, snatching up the fingerprint data. All the while, she asked, "What is this?"

He held out a hand. "May I have that back?"

"What is it?"

"Fingerprint data. May I have it back?"

"Of your detective friend?"

Simon rose to his feet and took it by force. "Thank you."

"Why do you have fingerprint data of him? Is this your own work for our case?"

He sat down, setting it beside him. He then went back to work, staying quiet. Franziska didn't let up a gaze staring at him. After a bit of this, Simon finally said, "In a way, yes."

"How so?" she eyed the data as if wanting to grab it again. Simon looked up, wordlessly telling her not to. She went back to her papers from before.

There was more silence in the room before he answered, "I noticed something unusual about Fool Bright's fingerprints. I looked into it."

"What was it so unusual?" She set her hands on the desk and stared at him. "This is not a private investigation, Mr. Simon Blackquill."

He took in a breath and set down his pencil, meeting Franziska's eye. "I do not believe Fool Bright is dead. I looked at his fingerprints, and noticed they were familiar. I was investigating as to why." He then dropped his look.

"And why were they familiar?"

"Because I have seen them before."

"What did your search turn up?"

Reluctantly, he finally picked it up and handed it to her. He then said, "The data was that of matching to the fingerprint data Fool Bright- the phantom had collected for their prints under disguise. The data, however, was fake, so I was comparing it to that of what was collected before Fool Bright took a trip across the River Styx and after the phantom decided it wise to begin masquerading around as him."

She shuffled through it mildly. "They all match." She went quiet, continuing to look over them in some kind of disbelief. Then, after a bit, she said, "Let me see if I have your deductions from this correct, Mr. Simon Blackquill." Gray eyes looked up from the fingerprint data, focusing on the monochrome man. "You claim that Mr. Bobby Fulbright is not dead, and along with it as proved by these fingerprints, the man we arrested was actually him and not the phantom?"

"Yes, those are my deductions," he confirmed, flipping a page in his assorted documents of the TU-2 case. He scratched something down before looking up at her. "The data the "phantom" collected was forged, yes. However, after comparing many of the prints, the only likely forgery is that Cykes-dono's and Earth Boy's prints were swapped. That likely would not conclude that the prints are the phantom's, but they matched those of Fool Bright's apparent corpse. I also compared them to data of when he was alive. They all matched."

Franziska seemed to be getting rather agitated. "So the phantom pretended their prints were Mr. Bobby Fulbright's. Your point is?"

"I gathered a glove from the first case I prosecuted since my incarceration. In other words, the "phantom" wore it, and Fool Bright was long dead. The case was in April." Simon looked back down to his papers. "The "phantom" had their prints match up to Fool Bright's as well. To say the man we arrested was the phantom… He can't be." A page was flipped back. "The only conclusion I am able to draw is that they are indeed Fool Bright."

Suddenly, the papers were tossed onto what he was working on. He stared at them blankly as Franziska asked angrily, "Then what are we working on all this for?!" She stood up. "Are you saying that everything we are doing, what he is going to tell us, even your release from prison all is running on a false arrest?"

The papers were quickly recollected and organized. He set them to the side and continued writing as he answered, "It must be."

A sharp, stinging pain made Simon jump. The pencil was dropped and he jerked away from the desk, looking up. A hand reached up and clenched his arm where it was coming from. He could feel tears in his clothing. She'd used that blasted whip on him. She grabbed the other end of it, wrapping some of the base in her hand before she snapped it. The noise was sharp and made him flinch back, though he continued his glare. She proceeded to insult him- or so he believed it was. She'd said, "Foolish fool who foolishly dreams of foolish dreams!"

He let his hand fall from his arm. It hurt horribly, but he wasn't going to grant her the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, Simon asked, "Pardon?"

A smugness shined through her annoyance, and she said, "Already in two days I have been able to hear a number about you. Including the fact that you were in some kind of relationship with that bumbling fool of a detective."

_That_ was a rumor floating around about him? He couldn't exactly recount how it could've started, except maybe the time he'd been so angry he'd left court and dragged Fool Bright with. But other than that, it was likely co-workers coming up with some kind of water cooler gossip. It was almost amusing she bought into it.

"He is dead, Mr. Simon Blackquill," she continued.

"I know."

"Like it or not, we have confirmed his death now."

"_I know._"

"That man can only be the phantom!"

Simon rose up to his feet. "I know all that!"

"Then why are you trying to prove they aren't?" she asked simply.

There was a little bit of silence before he answered, "Because he can't be." He ignored Franziska's enraged look and sat back down. "I know he isn't."

Her voice grew quieter. "If the man we arrested is not the phantom, then who is?"

His fingers tapped on the desk. "I don't know that right now. I aim to figure that out. The man saying to be Bobby Fulbright was not the phantom. The phantom who was… was me. And even if they weren't, even you must find these fingerprints to be suspicious."

The two went back to working in silence. Simon began to put together his case for the next day. The case was fairly clear. Cowell was the culprit. Knowing that he was going against someone in the Wright Anything Agency, though, meant that he should prepare for any and everything. So for now, he just worked on an airtight case. Time easily ticked by while he did, and when he looked at the clock next, it was heading toward nine o'clock. He stared at it. He felt like he had something to do, but besides work on Fulbright's innocence, he couldn't think of much. He went back down into his work and suppressed the nagging feeling.

"Von Karma-dono," he spoke after a while, "do we have the phantom's spy gear as collected evidence?"

She looked up. "I believe so. Why do you ask?"

Simon didn't meet her gaze. "The phantom refuses to talk. Interpol has been trying steadily these past couple of days. I was wondering if it could tell us something. If we learn something first and then confront them, they may start finally cracking."

"An interesting theory. I am glad to hear you finally want to work on the case."


	3. III: Bones

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

_Oye, this was an effort to get done. My muse has been slashed lately. Not sure why... Chapters might start taking a little longer to get done. I'm sorry if they do. I have a bad habit of starting and never finishing. I'll try not to with this, though!_

_We're starting to get into territory that isn't preplanned, but I'm not sure the story will go on for a lot longer. Maybe two or three more chapters? We'll see._

_Thank you to everyone who've been reading, and a special thanks to Kyosplosion for following! I hope you all like this update as well!_

* * *

The past couple of weeks had flown by for Simon. He'd had his hands full, in simple terms, with a sharp influx of cases to deal with. He'd lost the Cowell case, to no one's surprise with a Wright member on it, but that didn't slow work down. On top of that, he'd moved out of staying at the Wright Anything Agency, settled down in an apartment which wasn't exactly far away. It was still fairly empty. It had a mattress shoved in the single-bedroom living space, as well as a few things to cook and cook with, but it'd be a while before it had anything actually in it. But looking around it, Simon felt happy. Things were headed up since his release. Though he sat on the ground while eating and sometimes had to push Taka away from his meal, he had a place to call his own.

Dishes were set in the sink for later wash. His hawk companion came on his shoulder, letting out a small set of noises as he settled in place. Simon reached a hand up to offer Taka affection. A smile, small but genuinely happy, began to come to him. It wasn't very often he made such an expression, but Taka always seemed to bring it out. The bird had always been there for him and helped him in more ways than what people knew. Not that he particularly wanted them to. Frankly, Taka probably knew more about Simon than he himself knew, and he was just a bird.

Simon came over to a balcony, stepping outside. Taka came off his shoulder and sat on the railing, shifting for a moment before staring at his owner. Fingers came to Simon's mouth, and he let out a sharp whistle. A moment later and Taka took up to the sky, flying off somewhere. He watched the bird leave for a little bit until he turned away at the sound of his door knocking. He came to it and opened it, finding himself staring at Athena and Trucy.

"Hiya!" she greeted, grinning. "Mind if we come in?"

He opened the door more and stepped aside, answering, "Not at all."

The two came in and Athena looked around with a big smile on her face. She then said, "This is a nice place! Kinda empty, but that'll fix over time."

The door was shut and Simon came over, mumbling something too quiet to be heard. Athena laughed a bit, making a remark, but he ignored it and asked, "What has brought you to my home?"

Trucy spoke first. "Daddy wanted me to get out of the house and Athena offered to bring me along." Her arms folded, and she looked a bit to the side as if pouting.

Athena then butted in, "I wanted to see how you were doing, of course!" She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hands went to her hips and they shoved slightly to the side. Widget lit up a green.

That didn't exactly escape Simon's notice. "I see you have fixed your machine."

She blinked. It flicked yellow. She then looked down, before saying, "Oh!" Athena smiled again. "Yep! I fixed it all up yesterday! I'm still not sure why it wasn't picking up emotion, but at least it is again."

Trucy tipped her hat down a bit. "In the war of technology or magic, I won there."

Widget flickered red. "I don't see your magic helping too many trials!"

"Hey, I managed to save one of Polly's cases with the help of Mr. Hat," she argued, hands coming to fists and raised to her shoulders.

"Mr. Hat isn't exactly helping us calm our witnesses and pull out testimony!"

"He could if I was a lawyer!"

"You're a magician, not a lawyer!"

"That hasn't stopped me in the past!"

"Who is Mr. Hat?"

Both looked over at Simon's voice. Athena looked the other way as Widget spoke up, "Well, this is awkward."

Trucy didn't seem to notice. She just smiled and said, "I can't believe I never showed you Mr. Hat!" She then stepped aside and put her hands behind her. A moment later and the wooden being came out, letting out a hello.

"How do you do?" he asked, raising and lowering the hat. "I'm the amazing Mr. Hat!"

A small laugh came out of Trucy, and Mr. Hat came back, tucking behind her to who-knew-where. She then said, "You've come to one of my magic shows! Don't you remember?"

"Not well." Simon gave a sheepishly apologetic look.

"That's all right. I'm sure he forgives you!" She tipped her hat down. "Just pay more attention next time, and you'll notice him!"

Whatever Simon had prepared next was interrupted by the sound of a bird screech. He gave a brief, "One moment," and left to the balcony. Taka had returned with some papers in his claws. Simon took them and starting walking inside, looking over them while Taka came to his shoulder.

"What's that?" The obvious-coming question was from Athena.

He looked up before he set them on a small ledge coming from the wall, answering, "It is a report I had done concerning a case. My results are these."

"So? What does it say?" Trucy bounced a bit while she spoke. "You can't leave us in the dark about it!"

He picked up the papers and read aloud, "Evidence A-7. Evidence exhibits several advanced capabilities and functions as connected to Evidence A-8. Primarily, it serves for visual readings of what Evidence A-8 puts out."

"Yeah, but what is it?" she interrupted.

"Sunglasses." The papers were set back on the desk.

That only seemed to confuse Trucy. "Are they special sunglasses, or something?" She returned to bouncing. "Are they magic?"

"No way!" Athena chipped in. "That sounded like technology."

"Cykes-dono would be correct," he answered, coming back over.

"Yes!" She grinned. "Score one for Team Technology!"

Trucy made a face, and declared, "Team Magic will catch up real soon!" She then turned to Simon. "You're on our side, right?!"

Athena stomped on the ground and gave almost a glare to Trucy while Widget switched to a bright red. "No way! He's definitely on Team Technology." She looked at him. "Right?"

Simon had been petting Taka at that point. He looked over at her prompt, and answered, "Perhaps I am on neither." He turned to Taka again. "Why bother, when both teams fail to have any sort of favor toward my feathered friend here and his kind?" Taka let out a happy noise and came up close beside his owner.

Trucy laughed, while that only seemed to make Athena madder.

"You have to chose a side, Simon!" she protested. "That's how these work!"

"My side is my own." He got a mischievous look to him.

Athena stuck out her tongue. "Whatever…"

Trucy let out another laugh, and even Simon seemed amused. Athena folded her arms and looked the other way, while Widget said, "You're not doing this right!"

"My apologies, Cykes-dono," he mused.

She looked at him, her arms dropping. "It's fine!" she assured. Widget flicked green. "But that reminds me! We need to break some of that habit of yours!"

"Habit?" he echoed.

She nodded. "Of calling me by my last name. Maybe it's fine in court, but we're all friends here! You don't have to act so formal. Try calling me Athena!"

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

"Call me Athena!" she repeated. "Go on! Try it!"

"I don't see why this is necessary, Cykes-don-"

"Athena! Say it with me!" She grinned. "Athena!"

He stared at her again.

"_Athena._"

More silence.

Her hands fisted. "Come on, Simon! Just one time! Call me Athena!"

There was a pause, and then he finally said, "Athena."

She gave a smile. "Good! Just call me that from now on!"

His head turned the other way. "I fail to see why this is needed."

"Because you need to learn to relax some! You're out of prison and living a normal life. You should start acting like it." She put her hands on her hips. "In fact, I have just the idea to help you with that."

Trucy looked over. "Oh, are we leaving now?"

"What is this idea?" Simon asked.

Athena reached out, and grabbed his wrist. "There's no time to waste. Let's go!"

As she began to bolt off, Simon recoiled and attempted to pull back, protesting, "Wait, Cyk-"

"I don't know who that is," she answered, looking back but still tugging him.

"_Athena,_" he corrected firmly. He jerked his hand away. "I am not going anywhere unless you tell me the destination."

She grinned. "I told you. We're going to help you transition back into society. You aren't working today, right? Except your papers thing?"

"That is hardly specific enough," he countered. "But no, I am not working."

"Good. And just trust me on this surprise! You're gonna love it once it's done," Athena assured. "Now come on. We don't have all day."

He looked away again. "I would rather not."

"Don't be a baby!" Athena made a face at him. "Come on! Let's go!"

* * *

Following a knock and a call to enter, Simon pushed open the door to Franziska's office with documents and a couple pieces of bagged evidence. He came in and set them on the table, reporting, "Here is the information on the phantom's little gadgets." He then took a seat. When he wasn't on his own case, it wasn't rare that he was in her office.

She looked up from her papers. She stared at him for a moment before she asked, "Did you do something different today, Mr. Simon Blackquill?"

"Refrain from commentary," he requested simply.

She nodded. "What did the report say?"

He swiped off the evidence and handed it to her. "There was no specific set-source to who made it or where it came from. It appears as though they were able to repair the sunglasses and have them operating again, at the very least."

She read over the papers, flipping back and forth between them. "So, it is a dead-end on leads? What a shame. It would appear that the phantom has clammed up again, as well."

Simon picked up the bagged glasses and looked them over. They would've investigated the spy gear sooner, except that the phantom had begun to talk all of the sudden. The new information kept them investigating and distracted for a while, but now it seemed like they were facing another wall. The sunglasses were set back down. "I'm sure Interpol will have more from them soon enough. They will not let them squirm away that easily."

She set the report down. "I would expect such- What are you doing?"

Simon looked over. He'd taken the watch out of the bag. He then explained, "Getting a closer look. It isn't as if we have to get fingerprints off of i-" He cut off. He'd pressed a button, and a miniature grappling hook had shot out and clung to a nearby shelf. "... It."

She looked at the hook before getting up to release it. He raised a hand, saying, "Wait." He stared intensely at the watch before pressing another button and tugging back. The hook pulled away, releasing its victim before coming back into the watch. He then looked at Franziska, saying, "I returned it."

"Set the watch down."

"Are you worried I plan to run off using it, von Karma-dono?"

She gave him a flat look. "I do not want you breaking anything with it."

"I don't intend to do that," he answered as he pulled it closer to his face and studied it closely. He tapped another button. Nothing happened. He stared at it for a moment before concluding, "Part of it must be broken."

"The report said nothing of that. Now put it down, Mr. Simon Blackquill." She kept her voice level, but he could tell she was getting agitated.

He finally did. "They must have overlooked- No." He picked up the bag the sunglasses were in. They had gone to be colored black, white text running along it. He pulled them out. "It… is reading code."

"Take them off of your face," was Franziska's quick reply.

The lense still held between fingers, he tilted them down and asked, "Am I the phantom now?" An amused look came over him, a smile wiring up on his face.

"Take them off."

"I want to try them out."

A bad pain welled up on his arm. Franziska had picked up her whip. "Off."

It hurt, but he was fighting off a laugh at that point. "I think this is your-" He stopped, letting out a noise of pain as she whipped him again. "-Digital clock over there."

"Do _not_ pick up the watch," she ordered as he did, hitting him for effect.

Simon got up and moved away quickly, saying, "I'm going to figure out how to set the hour forward with this thing."

"You will not." She began to move from behind her desk, pressing after him.

He was starting to laugh a bit, coming to a wall and playing around with the watch. She easily caught him and hit him with the whip again, saying angrily, "You foolish fool fooling around with foolish things! Put it down, and stop playing!"

Simon took of the shades, only laughing louder. It earned him more lashes and a scolding, but he just crumpled on himself for protection against her. Eventually, she ripped the glasses from him, and ordered, "Turn them off."

He crammed the watch in his pocket. "Hand the glasses back first," he wagered.

She hit him again. "No. Off, and _now._"

Calming down some, he looked at her through covering his head and answered, "No."

"You-!" She cut herself off, settling to let out a frustrated noise. That frustration was quickly turned on him as she turned it on him, striking him several times over.

After a bit, through laughter that came back, Simon said, "Stop- _Stop!_ I'll shut it off!" Maybe he could've dealt with the pain before, but it was quickly growing too bad to deal with.

Reluctantly, she did, snapping it and ordering, "Turn it off."

Simon raised a hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out the watch. He studied it for a moment before pressing a button, saying, "I believe that was it."

She looked at the glasses. They'd resumed a normal screen. She turned away and went back to her desk, sitting.

A smirk was across him. He came over and sat where he had before, though a lot more fragily. He set the watch on the desk, putting it and the glasses back. He then remarked, "You seem to have a fair amount of practice with that whip, von Karma-dono."

"It happens when fools like you exist," she retorted.

"Fair enough," he answered with a sly grin. The pain was only starting to get worse, and he shifted slightly in response, but he wasn't about to admit it did. Yet. He glanced around the room. "At least we are aware it works," he commented, looking over to her clock. She did as well. It was an hour ahead of normal time.

"Put it back," she ordered simply. "My office is not your toy, Mr. Simon Blackquill. You are free to manipulate your own possessions as you please, but not mine."

He rose up to his feet and moved across the room, coming to the digital clock. A bit of futzing around later, and he set it back to the proper time. He then came back over and sat down, picking up the report again. "Do you think this will be of any use?"

"Doubtful." She went back to whatever she'd been working on before he walked in. "If there is no information on it, the most we will be able to do is prove that the phantom is likely a spy. Seeing how the whole world knows that now, though, it is useless. Unless you have any ideas on how to use it?"

He read it over for the millionth time. "Not particularly."

"It would help if we had any kind of name for who they work for, or them-self," she said, holding out a hand for the report.

It was passed over. "I believe "phantom" is a suiting nickname for that devil."

She set it aside and handed him something else. "Fitting as it may be, a name would help us learn quite a bit about them. That, Mr. Simon Blackquill, is something not even you can deny."

"I suppose not." He scanned the front page of the paper. "What is this?"

"We were told about the HAT-2 sabotage last," she explained. "That is what we were told on it." She looked around briefly before she handed him the report on the spy gear. "What information could be extracted is listed, it seems. See if there is anything to be made of it. It is likely useless, yes, but we cannot write it off until it has been given thorough examination."

"Are you giving me busy work, von Karma-dono?" he asked, beginning regardless.

She looked over. "In a form, yes, it might be. Are you claiming that this is not worth looking into?"

"I said no such thing," he responded. He'd rather not, but he wasn't about to get in an argument with her about it. The injuries gotten on him were far from being done aching. He wasn't eager to add more to it, though she wouldn't mind doing that given the chance. He was far from convinced that she was calm. She did have a good face to hide it, though. A bit of a smirk came to him. It was kinda funny.

A moment later, and new pain hit his arm. He grabbed the area instinctively and looked up. Franziska was glaring him down.

"Something wrong, von Karma-dono?"

"Work."

He looked down, suppressing the quickly returning smile.

* * *

A thoughtful look came over Athena as she listened to Simon. The man had come by the office earlier, saying he needed to speak with her over something urgent. She hadn't a case and doing odd jobs with Trucy was starting to get boring. Needless to say, she welcomed something new to do. But what Simon had started to off about was simply… odd.

"Cykes-dono," he began, but was interrupted.

"I told you not to call me that anymore!"

He attempted not to show his aggravation. "_Athena,_" he corrected with force, "something rather urgent has come to light."

Her hands went on her hips. "What is it?"

"Simply put, the man we arrested is not the phantom."

"What?!" Her hands dropped. "What do you mean? Who is he, then?!"

There was a pause before he admitted, "I believe that man is Fool Bright."

Athena looked at him for a minute before she reached a hand up, lightly batting at her earring. She considered the thought for a minute. "So, you're saying Detective Fulbright is alive?" She went quiet and continued to play with the earring. She then asked, "Why's that?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, do you have some kind of proof?"

Hesitance, and then, "Not on me."

"Oh." Her hands came to her hips, and she put them to the side a bit. "Why do you say he is, then? Like, explain your idea anyways."

He looked to the side. "I ran checks on the prints of Fool Bright's apparent body compared to data collected of the phantom's prints. It was then paired up with prints from before he would have died. They all matched."

"Help me out here," she said. "This means?"

"Why would the phantom have Fool Bright's fingerprints?"

Athena didn't answer that. She just reached up and played with her earring again. "Maybe he's actually the phantom?"

Simon gave a glare. "The phantom during that trial was not Fool Bright."

"Who was it, then?"

"Me."

"What?!"

Oh, right. He hadn't told her anything of that.

Athena stared at Simon in shock. "How do you know? Where were you, then?"

He shifted. "I'm unable to prove it at this time, but I was, simply put, kidnapped."

Saying that only seemed to confuse Athena more. She bit her lip, and then said, "I don't get what you're saying. How was the man arrested not the phantom? How was it you? No, we didn't do an actual psychological profile, but he was still barren of basically every emotion until he decided to play with it. He even admitted it, too, and then there was that freaky thing with the masks. Not even you can deny that it's pretty incriminating."

Masks. Had Fulbright told him of masks? He recalled some details of the man's over-dramatic breakdown he'd been told of, but he couldn't remember anything about masks outside of taking off his one for his own face. Part of it was that the "phantom" couldn't recall his own face, though. Perhaps that was what she was referring to. Either way, he rolled with it and said, "Are you implying that would be impossible to stage?"

She considered that, and then, "Nope. Widget doesn't lie."

"I couldn't if I wanted to," it chimed in.

Simon let his fingers dig into his hands. It had to be impossible. He just wasn't asking the right questions. So considering it for a little while more, he asked next, "There was nothing unusual with it?" There was a faint crack of desperation in his tone. Everyone he'd told of this just instantly shot him down. The fingerprints weren't even enough anymore. A horrible desire for a new lead or hint was rising in him, and if Widget was a dead-end, then it would just be constantly used as proof to why his theories were false. And how much like a defense attorney he sounded would've been entertaining had the circumstances been different.

"_No one's about to believe that now._"

He shuddered without movement at the voice murmuring in his ear, those damned words that Fulbright had said to him.

Be she could pick up on how upset he was over it all, or she just had an answer, she rolled over the thought before recalling a single thing. "Well, I guess Widget was acting kinda funny for a while after the trial, yeah, but I fixed it." Her hands fiddled with her earring more.

"Funny?" he repeated, his full attention on her.

Her hand lowered, hovering not far from the little machine. "Funny, yeah." She held it in her hand, staring at it. "It didn't seem to want to pick up on any emotion. Don't you remember? I'd feel different stuff, but it didn't wanna change how it glowed." She dropped it and looked up. "I'm no coding wizard, but I basically did what you'd call a factory reset on it, and it was fine."

"And you can confirm that it has worked fine since?" he prompted next.

Athena nodded, smiling. Widget lit up green for effect. "Yep! Why do you ask? Did you want a session, or something?" Her hands came to her hips.

"I have no need for it now," he answered her. He didn't, at least. "Tell me, Cykes-"

"Athena."

"_Athena,_ did anything happen during the trial to make it act so strange?" Perhaps he already knew the answer, but having her bring it up at least made transitioning to his real purpose quite a bit easier.

"You were there," she reminded, the green on Widget fading.

For a moment, he panicked. He'd told her already why he knew the phantom they arrested wasn't the real one, and yet she still asked this? He managed to spit something out, though, that being, "However, I am not the owner of it. If something would make it act awry, I would have difficulty noticing such in comparison to you."

"Good point." Athena resumed fidgeting with her earring. "Well, I guess the phantom did try hacking into it. Remember?" She looked down at Widget. "He could've done some serious damage if you hadn't stepped in. I'm lucky I was able to fix it." She put her head to the side. "But, I thought nothing had happened. Was that… really why Widget was acting so oddly?" Her eyes went to Simon. "I thought he failed, but maybe he did hack it."

Then seemed like a good time to introduce what he needed to. Simon was far from a professional or skilled user, but he still reached into his pocket and presented her the spy watch.

She looked at it. "Is this a gift or something?"

"No." It was rolled in his hand. "It is the phantom's watch. If you are willing, we could test to see if it is possible to change your device's reading of emotion."

Naturally, the thought didn't sit well with her at first. She went to protest, but closed her mouth after a bit. She then asked, "Will you be able to put it back?"

"I will attempt to the best of my ability. I expect you will be able to repeat what you did before, however?" Admittedly, he probably wasn't even going to be able to successfully tamper with it in the first place, but he wasn't going to let her know.

She chewed on her lip. "Is this part of the whole thing with proving the phantom you caught is fake?"

"The only head I want is that of the real phantom's," he answered. "I will not rest until that is done. However, Cy- Athena, if you do not want to test it, I will not make you."

"I've made up my mind then," she said, smiling. "We'll try it."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "The phantom… killed my mother. He made you believe it was me for seven years and almost had you die for it. Wherever he is, whatever he's doing, I want him caught too. And if the possibility exists that who was arrested isn't him, I won't take that!" She gave a V-sign to Simon. "So! We just need a subject, and I think I know who."

A new voice spoke up. "Why are you staring at me?"

"You know why, Apollo," Athena said, smirking a bit. "Someone stole Trucy's pudding, and we still don't know who. If you have nothing to fear, come sit down on the couch."

"I have work to do," he said, and began to quickly shuffle off.

Athena darted after him, and easily dragged him back, saying, "Nonsense. This will be quick. Don't worry!"

Simon stepped aside, letting her drag the man and sit him down. She then turned on Widget, letting the screen turn on. She looked to Simon. "Let's get a before-reading on how it handles emotion. You set up what you need to." She then turned back to Apollo. "Now, tell me your alibi for the time period where they were stolen."

"This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"Yeah yeah, we just need to test something." She opened up a screen on the Mood Matrix. "Your testimony now, Apollo!" Her arms folded. "I need some data to put in here, and we'll only further prove your innocence if everything's right."

He gave Athena a look spelling a mental groan. "Fine. At the time the pudding was stolen, I was out working on my case at the time. I was in the detention center and was talking with Delila. I had to leave since visiting hours were over, and came back to find Trucy upset over the lost pudding." He gave her an expectant look. "Is that good enough?"

She hid a laugh. "Yes. Now, Simon," she said as she looked over, "do what you need to."

Simon put on the sunglasses, answering, "Let us see what can be done." He turned on the watch, waiting for a moment before the sunglasses went black. A minute later, and coding started to flood over it, much like it had with the clock. This, however, was a lot more complex and lengthy. He practically winced at it, bringing it to a stop a minute later.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Athena asked warily.

"I have not the experience of the phantom with it," he admitted, "but I'm more than capable of quick learning. Allow me time."

"What is he even doing?" Apollo asked, lightly tapping Athena.

She looked over. "Didn't you hear anything?"

"I have stuff to do, so I didn't eavesdrop," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh." Her hands came on her hips. "Well, remember during the UR-1 retrial, when the phantom tried to hack into Widget? We're testing on if the mood tolerance could've been changed. Simon's on to something about that trial."

"What was wrong with it?" He paused. "Outside of just how messed up it was."

She looked to him. He gave a small nod. Athena went back to Apollo, and shared, "He thinks we didn't capture the real phantom."

"... No offense, but that's ridiculous."

Athena have a shrug. "Maybe. But if we just need to look at everything again to make sure, I can't really protest."

He paused. Of course she'd want the real phantom caught as well. Apollo just sat back in the couch, going quiet.

And the silence remained for a few minutes, until the Mood Matrix suddenly went to a bright red. A moment later, and it declared an overflow of anger.

"Are you all right?" Athena asked, head snapping to Apollo.

He blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"Widget's saying you're really angry," she explained.

"Calm down; we're not really investigating!" the machine piped up.

Athena gave it a glare before looking at Apollo again.

Simon spoke up. "That was my doing."

"Oh!" she looked over. "You mean to say you've figured it out now?"

"Not exactly. I have pinpointed how to adjust its current reading, but I doubt I am far off from doing what I need." He went back to work.

Athena let out a small, "Hm," and went back to watching the screen. The anger died away, going away completely before happiness and sadness spiked.

"Switch to another piece of testimony," Simon ordered.

She looked over in surprise before saying, "Sure," and did such. The emotions switched to normal readings.

Simon frowned. "Return to the previous one."

She did such. It too was normal.

"That is not it, then," he muttered to himself, and went back to work.

Athena and Apollo shared a look, but went back to sitting in quiet. A bit more time lapsed, perhaps a couple minutes or so, before the Mood Matrix changed again. This time, however, the change was that nothing came up.

"Switch the testimony again," Simon ordered.

It was moved and put back. No readings came up still, and the pictures had shifted, fading away to leaving Apollo just showing what had formerly been most predominantly felt.

"This would be it, then." Simon tilted down the sunglasses, blinking hard a couple times. He then said, "I believe I have manipulated the Mood Matrix as needed."

Athena brought the screen to her, having sat down, and fiddled with it a bit. She soon admitted, "This is almost exactly like what the phantom's was like."

Apollo screamed almost right after, and surprise jolted up. The two looked over. Trucy was standing behind the couch, laughing as Apollo leaned as far back from a goose that had been dropped in his lap. Athena laughed with, but went back to the screen. The surprise had faded, but it didn't escape her notice.

"It seems that when there's a strong enough emotion, it'll pick up on it," she noticed, looking over to Simon.

He nodded. "Indeed. Would you like for me to set it back to normal?"

"Is that all you needed to do?"

"For now, yes," he said, pushing the glasses up. There was a bit of pause as he fiddled with the watch again, but sure enough, emotions started to come back. The previous pictures faded in, and it began to act normally. Simon promptly shut off the hacking device and took off the glasses.

Athena closed up the Mood Matrix, ignoring Apollo ejecting the goose and fleeing away. She looked to Simon. "What does this mean?"

"We have proven the capabilities of this watch to manipulate your device," he summarised. "If that is true, then likewise, it could have been easily just as possible for it to be done during the trial. It was a shorter timespan, but anyone with more experience than I could manage that. I don't know when Fool Bright would have had other time to learn, but I also did not see him for several days at a time. He was a supervisor for when I left the prison."

"You… You're right!" she exclaimed, hands raising so her fingers rested on the sides of her face. "I guess it is possible, but then how do we explain everything else? There was still the mask thing, and I guess he could've just lied about being the phantom, but why would a sniper shoot him? Was is part of a plan or something?"

Simon cut in as she paused to take a breath, saying, "I am not focusing on those matters at this time, Cykes-do-"

"Athena."

He paused. "Athena." He _had_ to get used to saying that. "I am only looking into the affair of the psychological analysis performed."

Athena looked to her lap as her hands fell in it. "Detective Fulbright might be alive, huh?" she mumbled, thinking a few things aloud. "Where's the real phantom then? He loves justice so much." A hand fisted. "Where's ours?!"

More quiet filled the room, only interrupted by the background noise of Trucy and Apollo. Simon put the gear away in the bags he'd brought them in. He'd suffer later for taking them, but he could deal with Franziska's whip if she intended to use it.

"Athena," he finally managed to say after a bit.

She looked up. "What's wrong?"

"We will catch the real phantom. This I promise you."

She gave a slow nod. "I'll help you however I can. I can't do as much being a defense attorney, but I'm gonna use that to the best way possible." She then added, "By the way, are we going to do a new analysis? It would probably help to file a new psych report, too. I'm not sure how a new one can be made on the phantom, but it will only help you to get one."

"Do you even have the authority for that?" he asked, giving a curious look.

Athena grinned. "Widget couldn't be valid in courts without it. Just tell me when you want something done, and I'll see if there's time."

* * *

Simon practically cringed as he sat down in the detention center and Fulbright's whole face lit up. Others had managed to refrain from giving word, but he knew that Bobby was fully incapable of keeping his trap shut. And sure enough, as soon as the good detective had sat down, he said, "You got your hair cut!"

"Let us not discuss it," he said with a bit of urgency.

"You're not even wearing your usual makeup today!" Apparently, no discussion wasn't an option. "Who actually got you to do that? I could never convince you to go without your eye spears thingy!"

"Must you know, Cykes-" He cut himself off, almost hearing her nagging voice in his head. "Athena requested I do such, and dragged me out for it."

"Yeah, but even your make-up, sir?"

"Fool Bright."

"You kind of look like your younger self with your hair now."

"_Fool Bright._"

"I think it looks good on you. You seem happier and friendlier somehow."

"You are wearing that out," he snapped, giving a hard glare.

Fulbright began to sulk, looking down with his index fingers pressing together. "Sorry, Prosecutor Blackquill," he said, sullen and kicked down. "What did you need?"

That was more like it. Simon composed himself, and said, "As a start, if you're willing to move on, I have to ask about the false information you've been giving us."

"False?" Fulbright repeated, his hands dropping. "You couldn't find anything about what I said?"

"We were able to," he admitted, "but I am only able to assume it false."

He grinned. "I don't think it is. I was looking into the phantom myself, you know. That's likely part in why they decided to take my family hostage. I managed to find out a couple things, so I've been working off of that."

A couple things. Some of what he said was rather off with what was uncovered, but he corrected mistakes when presented with true information. He looked the other way. "Who of your family is taken, in any manner?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Fulbright admitted. "I wasn't told that, but I know it's at least my sister and one of my cousins."

"Have you any idea where they are or their status?"

Fulbright shook his head.

Simon let a finger tap on his leg. "Their recovery will have to be added to the list of tasks to complete. In any news, Fool Bright, I had the opportunity to investigate the matter of the Mood Matrix today."

He lit up. "What happened?"

"As you suggested when I first asked, we were able to hack inside of it and manipulate it to read very little emotion," he reported. "Athena also gave the suggestion that a new psych profile be filed, but it will be near impossible to obtain another sample of the phantom's voice. It was a miracle I was able to in the past."

Fulbright let out a sigh and looked down. "What are we gonna do?"

"At the very least, one can be made of you. It is useless without an available comparison, but it is a start. In general, another look at you under that devise wouldn't be harmful." Simon paused and shifted. He still hurt from earlier that day. "That will have to be put for later, when there is an available time for it. The next that will have to be focused on is why your blood matched that on the moon rock's."

Bobby nodded. "That should be easy to disprove. Just have another test taken. I don't think you'll have to prove exactly why it matched, but if you want to know, the phantom just disguised as me for that. They didn't really want to, but it was that or have everything fall apart. I don't know how you'll prove that, though."

"As you said, it is doubtful that beyond them not matching that I will have to prove much," Simon explained. "I will have something arranged in short time."

A bit of a silence washed over them before Bobby asked, "Was that all?"

"I suppose so." Simon came to his feet. "I'll be back when I am able to. I have a new case to work on."

Fulbright nodded, and set his hands on the table of the bulletproof glass between them. "I can't wait to be the detective on your cases again, Prosecutor Blackquill!"

He looked the other way. "Let's clear your name first."

"Right!" He wore a happy look. "Just come by if you need anything at all!"


	4. IIII: Talk to Me

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

_WOW OKAY UM. I'M SORRY? My muse for this just tooootally crashed and idk why. But I was reading fanfics at like 5am a few mornings ago and suddenly got inspired so here you go, a new chapter. I'm serious about messaging me if this happens. It's basically why none of my stories finish._

_Also, I have another story I wanna start. It wouldn't be exactly a sequel, but it might take place in a ver that could be post-this by a few months? I still don't know if I wanna finish writing it. Either way, we're gonna finish up the story next chapter._

_This ended up being the chapter of ships. Try to spot them all that I slipped in there (Here's a freebie: Cykesquill)._

* * *

Advancing in progress for Fulbright's case was proving difficult for the past 3 weeks. Things weren't proving to wanting to be easy for him to advance, as he noticed himself caught up in trying to advance in his life. Going out was rather hellish for him- the stares and whispers he got just shut him out from doing much socially, and he always greeted those people with a glare that murdered. Managing work was hard enough, really. When he wasn't there, he found himself too… anxious (was that even the right word?) to go outside, frankly. The idea repulsed him more and more, and he stopped. He rarely even saw Taka when the bird came, and began to feign being gone whenever anyone came to visit. He mustered up courage to buy groceries and that was it.

He wasn't sleeping well, either. He was starting to end up using his promised-to-be-ditched makeup just for covering up his dark circles some. And the antisocial behavior would've gotten worse, had Athena not busted in his house before he could lock the door one day after work. He tried to shoo her away, but she wouldn't leave. She instead just snatched him up and dragged him to her home. Apollo came over a few minutes later, and they ended up just playing a few games together and eating before the group disbanded, Athena taking Simon home. And the routine seemed to keep repeating itself, her sometimes having other people over, just the two of them, or maybe going to the Wright Anything Agency. Trucy was usually happy to see him, though Wright could have forced more of a smile.

There were some days she wouldn't come and he could just crawl in his house and be alone. Sometimes he'd muse with Taka, sometimes he'd try to sleep (and fail, usually. His nightmares didn't exactly recognise everything being solved.), or sometimes he'd just lounge idly about. And slowly, he began to realise that Athena was forging him some kind of social life. It wasn't a lot, and sometimes he made him just go see his sister or something, but she picked up on his behavior. And he confronted her about it one day, and she didn't even bother denying. Instead, she'd just brought him out again eventually (despite his protests), saying she was getting worried for him. And he began to make himself enjoy the outings rather than dealing with them. It helped. He would've much preferred to be alone, but it helped. And Athena noticed that, too.

And he thanked her one day, to which she just smiled and insisted any friend would have. That made him feel better. He had a friend to his name.

He didn't quite know why these thoughts were coming back to him. Simon was currently sitting in a chair in Franziska's office, looking over some older data while passing some time with recounts of the past. But that memory of Athena saying that to him made him feel happy, so he wouldn't shove it away. He was going to arrange himself to a phone later in the day ("Finally," Athena had said after he gave in to endless times of nagging), even, advancing on with his life. Transitioning back to society took a lot more than he'd expected, not that he really thought it'd be a breeze for him.

"You could claim this is almost a fallacy," he though aloud, reading over it.

Franziska looked up from the book in her hands. "What is?"

"The blood data comparing the phantom's to the moon rock's." He turned the papers over to her. "The test was rather rushed when it was done. It took a while, but it was done under pressure and was a very… first-glance summary, if you will."

She eyed over it before handing it back. "So what are you supposing we do?"

He went back to looking it over. "Have another done? I can imagine whatever sorry defense attorney is shoved onto the phantom's case will poke at it, and while I'd love to watch them squirm in struggle for the most ridiculous errors, I would prefer the trial be swift."

"I love nothing more than such pathetic attempts," she countered, setting the book on her desk and tucking hands under her chin. A smirk was coming to her. "It only contributes to how horrible their downfall will be as they continue to realise how fruitless their efforts are."

"The sadistic type, are we, Franziska-dono?" The words came out of him before he'd really realised it. But he held a taunting grin as he met her look, a hand coming up to clasp his chin. The more informal nickname was something he'd picked up recently. He'd expected instantaneous backlash, but she hadn't seem to really notice much of it and it stuck ever since.

That, however, had taken her aback, and she slightly recoiled. Her face twitched from it's expression and the smile dropped. Simon just let out a sharp laugh and slammed a hand on the desk in his merriment. But she wasn't about to be so easily insulted by this man.

"Perhaps you'd care to see how much of that is true, Mr. Simon Blackquill?"

"That threat is as real as my sword," he countered. Which was true. He owned no sword, despite using it so heavily for metaphors. He'd also come to learn that Franziska had calmed from her apparently whip-happy younger years, using the intimidating weapon massively less.

Her hands dropped and she slid back a bit from the desk. "Then I shall make it real."

"Is that an invitation or a challenge?" he countered, leaning on the desk with that same smarmy grin.

She held up the whip and snapped it. It let out a sharp sound. "A promise."

He waved a hand. "Then I shall end this little spat here."

"_Afraid,_ Mr. Simon Blackquill?"

"Unwanting of a burning for the next few days," he answered, sitting normally now. "Call off your attack and I shall call off mine. A fair trade?"

She reluctantly sat down, setting the whip away and grabbed the book again. "I still say you are simply afraid."

"Perhaps so. After my accusation, I'd say I have reason," he pointed out.

"Then maybe you aren't as much of a fool as you make yourself to be."

He got a small grin again. "I wish the same could be said for you."

Her eyes twitched up in a single warning glance, but he didn't notice through trying to swallow down laughter. She looked the other way and said, "Back to your mindless insults? Or is your mind too incompetent to be clever for a change?"

"Or is yours too incompetent to process my words?" he countered.

"At least mine is able to hold myself during a trial," she answered, raising an eyebrow. Simon recoiled. Right, she'd come to see one of his trials that took place last week, and more than once he voice his voice wavering and it hard to focus.

His eyes slanted. "Rather literally, that was of your doing."

"But we're both aware I wouldn't repeat your behavior." She was smug.

Simon rose up to his feet, grabbing the papers of the blood analysis off the desk. "Right. I am going to have a new test done of this. It can only help, in the least." He turned away and began heading to the door, looking back. "I will return later to drop off the results, but I have a few other things to do as well. Will you be able to look over it?"

"I believe we just established the only one capable of that," she answered, pulling a few things to her.

He couldn't hold back a snort of amusement. "A yes is just as well, Franziska-dono."

* * *

The next day had started rather unusually for Simon. He woke up in an irregular place, and while walking hurriedly down the street while avoiding everyone he could, he had noticed a soreness spreading through him. He shook his head while mumbling a complaint to himself. He'd have to take painkiller later. For now, he had business, and very little was going to stop him from completing it. Time was closing in rather quickly. If he couldn't arrange things to finish soon…

He pushed out that thought by opening the door to the Wright Anything Agency. Apollo noticed him first, giving a bit of a greeting before Athena busted in. Her eyes lit up as she dashed over, calling out, "Simon!" No doubt she was pleased by the visit, considering his former behavior. To have him actually go somewhere without the confrontation to do so was rare.

"Hello, Athena," he greeted, looking down at her in a massively more mild look compared to her unending joy. "How are you?" He always felt a sense of comfort around the woman. She was one of the few people he could let his guards down around. They were growing close, and he saw her as nearly another sibling (Though he didn't plan to tell Aura- She'd pitch a fit if she knew, although he liked to theorise she might like the idea of her crush's daughter being accepted by the family.). Tabloids disagreed and tried to suggest something else, but they settled to be mutually repulsed by the reports and carry about their way anyways. The eager news people were often wrong in their assumptions, anyways, though Athena once explained that they weren't far off the ball considering a certain blue and a certain maroon pair of lawyers.

"I'm great!" She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. "I was just packing up for the day. Mr. Wright and I have a new case, but he wanted me to close up with Apollo while he's out." She looked back to the brown-haired lawyer. He seemed to be a bit entranced, staring at them with some files in his hands.

Simon gave a small wave, shifting a bit under his gaze. That seemed to snap him out of whatever had come over him, for he shouted a loud greeting before hurrying away to deal with what he was holding. Simon looked down to Athena, asking quieter, "Is he all right?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure," she answered, looking back.

He gave a nod and didn't press on it. Instead, he just said, "You mentioned you were busy. Is now a bad time to talk?"

"Not at all!" She began to walk in, saying, "We're almost done, anyways. Take a seat!" She followed that up by walking to the room and plopping down on one of the two couches. She cleared away a couple books off the desk and beckoned for him to join her on the one opposite.

He sat down a bit stiffly. He wasn't the best at "making himself at home," even if he was in a rather familiar place. But Athena didn't seem to mind, and just asked him what was up. He wasted little time in getting to the point, saying, "I want you to perform another psychological analysis on our apparent phantom."

"I was wondering when that was gonna happen," she said, folding her arms. "All right. Did you have a day in mind?"

He shook his head, saying, "Not particularly. Whatever day would best suit you is when it shall happen, if you wish to do so at all."

She laughed. "Of course I do." She then thought, giving a mild hum as she did. "Today isn't that good, as I have to go meet with Mr. Wright and then Trucy has a show today. Tomorrow's going to be the trial, and I don't know how long that will take."

"I would not wish to burden you with so many things in one day," he added on.

"It might go onto another day, and Junie and I are supposed to go out that day as well," she mumbled, continuing to think aloud.

"Junie..?" he echoed.

"Oh, yeah." Athena looked at him, brushing hair from her face. "Don't you remember? She was my friend when we were kids, and she was the defendant on the case that took place at the Themis Legal Academy. I've even mentioned her to you a few times!"

"I believe I am able to recall such a person." He then mused, "I believe someone also had said you now titled each other with the word "girlfriend"?"

Athena froze up, staring at Simon for a long minute before she turned around, shouting, "Apollo!" Her eyes had narrowed.

The man dropped what was in his hands as he replied, "I didn't even know! I thought you two were still just friends!"

She looked back, folding her arms. Widget was a distinct red.

Simon let out a small laugh. "Don't fret, Athena. It isn't as though it's bad."

"Yeah, well…" She let her arms drop and smiled sheepishly. "Anyways, I should be free the day after that. I doubt the trial will go into three days. Apparently, Mr. Payne is supposed to be the prosecutor. It can't be that tough."

Payne… The name was familiar. He'd been in charge of the courtroom bombing trial, and was a stand-in once when his transportation to the trial had malfunctioned. That trial had been quite the odd one compared to his normal cases. It was about a stolen cat rather a murder, first of-

"Or maybe it's his brother?"

"He has a brother?" Simon thought about that.

"Yeah, I remember Mr. Wright mentioning a brother," Athena recalled. "He was talking about his first case, except this Payne was called Winston."

A few vague memories of someone with that name came into Simon's mind. "I believe I have seen him once or twice."

Apollo came up at that point, chiming in, "He was the prosecutor for my first case as well. I guess you broke the chain, Athena."

Athena thought for a minute, before she said, "Oh, right! Simon, you were the prosecutor!"

"I suppose so." He seemed a bit distant.

"Everything all right?"

He gave a slow nod. "Yes… I just seem to recall that he was fired… or some sort. The rumors going around are that it involved his son being put in the clink in the past couple of years."

"His son?" Apollo spoke once more. "Do you know who that is?"

"If I did meet him, he did not make his heritage known," he answered blandly.

Athena nodded. "I guess. Payne- the older one, he didn't sound very… _good_ at his job. Mr. Wright described him as pretty bad at getting points across."

"That's true." Apollo leaned on the couch. "He didn't do well under pressure either. I guess I'm kinda lucky he was my first prosecutor."

"And I guess I'm lucky you were there for mine." She threw a glance at Simon, teasingly taunting. He hadn't made his first case easy.

"I'll be sure to start giving my win to the defense," he shot back, an eyebrow raised.

Athena grinned. "Great! I'm glad we reached the same conclusion."

"... In an alternate dimension, perhaps."

She stuck out her tongue. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. Anyways, is three days good, or no?"

"I'm afraid I have a doctor's appointment scheduled for that day after work,"

"So the day after. I won't be busy then, either." She held a grin.

He considered it for a minute, and then nodded. "In four days time sounds fair."

"Four days for what, exactly?" Apollo asked. "Is the carnival coming or something?"

They both turned to Simon, expecting an answer but for different reasons. Simon considered how to word everything, but before he could answer, the door opened harshly and Trucy came in, calling out, "I'm home!"

"Hey Trucy!" Athena gave a smile as she walked in. "Oh, and Pearly, too!"

The door was closed gently by Pearl, much in contrast to Trucy's bold entrance. She gave a small bow, saying, "Hello, everyone." Her eyes skimmed the crowd, and she tensed a bit, reaching and holding Trucy's hand lightly.

Trucy looked over, asking, "What's wrong?" before following her eyes. She then smiled big, saying, "Oh, don't worry, Pearl!" She let go and bounded across, coming to Simon and putting her arms around his neck in a hug. He let out a startled cry and tried to slide away, but Trucy just looked back as she hugged his head and said, "He looks scary, but he's nice. He's not even threatening me for hugging him anymore!"

Simon pried her off, a glare to boot, but it didn't cut down her joy as he would've liked. He then just looked away, saying, "Perhaps I have grown to realise my words are ineffective on you."

Athena gave a laugh, and said, "Simon, I don't think anyone needs my hearing to know that you like them."

The glare was redirected at her.

Pearl walked up now, holding a straight face that couldn't quite hold back her fear. It wasn't the first time they'd met, but their exposure was intensely low. But she nodded, saying, "Hello, Mr…" She paused to recall his name, and then said with uncertainty, "Blackwell."

"It is Black_quill,_" he corrected, "but hello as well."

Trucy butted in before it got awkward, saying, "I gotta get ready for my show tonight. Pearl's going to be helping me with one of my tricks, too!" She grabbed the woman's wrist and held it up to her chest with enthusiasm. Pearl gave a nervous smile.

"You should come with us when we go see, Simon," Athena said, slapping his knee a bit. "It'll be fun! She does the coolest stuff." She then paused, and added, "Only if you're comfortable with that, of course."

"I… will tell you when I reach a decision," he answered simply.

"Well, it starts at 8," Trucy answered, smiling with her arms folded behind her. "The Wonder Bar isn't that far from here. Maybe like, 10 minutes at most. That gives you like, an hour or something to decide." She grinned. "Anyways, I'm gonna go get ready." And with that, she dashed off, bringing Pearl with her. The three watched them go.

"That reminds me." Athena stood up, stretching. "I should go meet with Mr. Wright now. So four days, then?"

Simon nodded.

She put her hands on her hips. "Great! I'll see you then!"

* * *

Simon sat down in the chair of the visitor's room with a hard land. Fulbright was already on the other side, somehow smiling despite everything. A part of Simon wondered why he was forced to meet in this place. It likely had to do with this not being an official interrogation, but he at least always was able to bargain staying past visitor's hours. That, or perhaps now that he was free, the guards finally succumbed to an obvious fear of him. Whatever the reason, he didn't protest. It was to his advantage.

"Good evening, sir!" Fulbright said, bright as ever.

A small nod was given to him along with a bit of a grumble of a greeting.

"Is… something wrong?" Bobby couldn't stop a sad look from coming to his face.

"I am fine, Fool Bright," Simon answered quickly. "Have you been able to stand your ground well?"

He gave a salute. "You bet! So long as I believe that justice will ultimately prevail, I can endure anything to come!"

"Optimistic jester," he muttered, watching the man struggle for a moment as he found himself unable to move his arms as wide as he would due to his shackles. Most prisoners didn't really need them when simply in the visitor's room, but since he was the apparent phantom, he was an exception to that.

Fulbright settled his hands, putting them in his lap with that doofish grin still on him. "So, Prosecutor Blackquill, have you been able to find anything new?"

"Indeed we have. A lot of my work today was revolving around your latest blood test in comparison to the data of the moon rock." It hadn't matched, of course. It baffled and aggravated Franziska- She even had the test redone ("Even more thoroughly," he recalled her saying), but with the same results. She almost even considered just not using it during the trial, but he'd managed to convince her to not bring it up unless absolutely necessary.

"_I may want this bloody phantom finally dealt with,"_ he'd said, "_but we cannot ignore the truth of the matter, even if it hurts our case. Clearly, we will just have to fix the error."_

It had sated her, but he didn't know for how long or how much.

Fulbright's eyes had lit up. "Are things looking promising for me, then?"

"It would be shameful if I could not say that, Fool Bright," Simon assured. "I have been looking into this matter since the day after my release."

The man rolled over his thoughts for a minute, tapping his chin lightly while he thought. Fulbright then nodded, saying, "That's… a couple months or something, right? I'm kinda surprised no trial has come yet. Are they really wanting more information?"

Simon gave him a funny look. "You are unaware of your trial date?"

He shook his head.

"It is in two days," he reported.

Fulbright couldn't mask his surprise. "Two days?"

"Yes, Fool Bright." Simon almost looked grave- his eyes had taken an invisible shadow, head tilted down the slightest. "We have nearly finished putting together our case. You are only to be prosecuted for the murders of space boy and my mentor, it seems, as Interpol has put claim to everything else." His head turned the other way. "It has taken a while due to the nature of the phantom, but your trial shall be in two days." A smirk grew on his lips. "In a courtroom with a roof, of course." His eyes moved to the side, looking at Fulbright. "It was lucky that hit missed you. A little higher, and you would not even have the chance for freedom." His head turned back to Fulbright, and a hand raised to his chin. "It seems the River Styx's ferry runner was too annoyed at your oafish self to keep you on board. Lucky you!" He then broke out into a laugh.

"Please stop that." Fulbright's voice was a bit of a whine. His fingers were pressed, and a frown crossed his face while a puppy-dog look was given.

Simon waved a hand, dismissing his words. "I jest, Fool Bright!" he assured, settling to let himself grin. "I almost missed your ridiculous reactions."

"Do you mean that?" He perked up.

"It isn't as though Franziska-dono would provide such," he pointed out.

"Franziska…?" Bobby looked confused.

Simon hesitated, and then nodded. "Have I not told you of my cohort?"

"Not from what I can remember." A sheepish grin came to him.

"I said this was a high-profile case," he recounted. "As such, two prosecutors were assigned to this case. It is I or Interpol agents who have mostly spoken to you, but the other prosecutor is a woman named Franziska von Karma. She is quite well at her work, might I add."

Fulbright glanced to the side. "Is that… laughter?"

Simon looked over to the door of the visitor's room. "Perhaps you are hearing an inmate. One of my first few nights, my cellmate happened to break out into a hysterical form of it."

"Was he a former clown or something?" he guessed.

"He had been a prosecutor, much like I," Simon corrected. "He explained that it would happen upon rare occasion, that despite being binded by bars so, he felt so immensely liberated that the urge to laugh of joy could not be contained."

Fulbright blinked. "Um, haven't seen anyone like that."

"No, the man served his sentence already," Simon answered.

"What sentence was that?"

Eye contact was averted as Simon passed a glance to the side. "Death… carried out by an aggravated inmate. He was to serve life, but being a prosecutor isn't the best background for joining the members of the clink."

Fulbright gave a nod, quickly picking up that it wasn't something Simon wanted to talk about. Instead, he just asked, "So, how close are you to finding out the truth of this whole mess?"

In a way, the question startled Simon. He stared at Fulbright for a moment before finally providing an answer. "I have not an inkling of an idea to where the phantom may currently be or who has the unfortunate fate of being their next mask, but I have confidence that at the very least, you will be able to be proven as not our wanted catch."

"Sir, I see just one issue." Bobby almost looked guilty.

"That being?"

"You're a prosecutor, and the one on this case to boot." He folded his arms as best as the shackles would let him before he gave up, deciding it too painful.

"Indeed!" Simon agreed. "And I intend to act on that side, even if I am aware of this all. Your issue being, Fool Bright? Surely you do not mean to suggest I act out of my place?"

A quick head shake was implemented. "No, it's just... What am I supposed to do about my defense? It's not like they know what you've looked into, and I know anyone who would defend the supposed phantom."

"Talk of defense reminds me," Simon said abruptly. "I have brought Athena with me today so another psychological analysis may be done. Surely you recall the profile done of you?"

He nodded. It had been a simple process and everything checked out, well, normal. He'd been described as having an abundance of emotion, really. Simon said he was going to hold on to it. But that raised the question of, "Why is another analysis being done?"

"Evidence," was the provided answer before Simon got up and left the room for a minute.

* * *

Athena came in the room, hovering a bit close to Simon. He eventually had to sit her down, though, choosing to the side of her with arms folded. She looked to him, and he nodded, waving a hand and saying, "Do what you need to."

She then turned back to Bobby. Her eyes had narrowed, and she began with, "So, _phantom,_" the name was spat with venom and he perked up, "I don't know what you've been playing, but don't think you can trick Widget again."

The device had grown red, and spoke, "You can't hack into me now!"

He recoiled, flinching and giving a sorry look. He then started to say a bit pitifully, "But I'm not the pha-"

"Shut up." The interjection was quick and quieted him immediately. "You may have Simon running around in your little game, but I'm not going to be fooled." She slammed her hands down on the desk, causing him to jump. "Now stop acting like Detective Fulbright, you… _disgrace!_"

"Athena," Simon spoke up, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Have you forgotten this pitiful creature does not have a name or face of their town? Indeed, they are a disgrace and an insult to Fool Bright, but it isn't as though they have a choice."

"Prosecutor Blackquill," Fulbright spoke up, his voice starting to shake along with his body, "what's going on? You know I'm not the phantom, so why is she-"

"Silence." Simon's voice had come to a snarl.

He stiffened, fear flashing in his eyes as he wisely took up the order.

"So, phantom, are you ready to waste time?" Athena kept her glare.

Fulbright gave a final glance to Simon, begging for help, but the other man just looked away. So he nodded to Athena, attempting to stop his shaking.

She thought for a moment before saying, "Why don't you tell us about your latest crime, the HAT-2 sabotage? Maybe Apollo will finally have some answers."

"All right." Fulbright thought for a moment before explaining with an averted gaze and index fingers pressed together, "The phantom's-" He cut off as Athena slammed a hand on the table. He then rushed to fix it, saying, "Err, my mission was to sabotage the HAT-2 Launch. I don't know why I was assigned to, um…" He pondered for a moment before coming to an answer. "It's not my place to question."

"And why did you murder Clay?" Athena prompted.

He shifted uneasily. "I had to kill Mr. Terran to keep him from talking about the bombing." He then quickly added, "So Mr. Starbuck could be blamed." Fulbright thought for a bit longer before muttering, "I guess to get the moon rock back as well? But then Mr. Cosmos appeared…" He then cleared his throat, finishing, "In the end, though, the mission was a success?"

"You really are disgusting, aren't you?" Athena asked, unpleasant as ever.

Bobby stared down. "Did I do something wrong?"

Athena reached up, tapping Widget on. "I can hear your dischord. The least you could do is not lie for _once_ in your life." She drew a circle on the screen, and the Mood Matrix turned on. She then said, "Fine. I'll just force the truth."

Simon leaned over a bit, looking at the screen. Athena met his glance, keeping a straight face. He turned his head the other way.

The screen projected the first bit of Fulbright's testimony, the words "_The phantom's- Err, my mission was to sabotage the HAT-2 Launch"_ in white text laced over an image. The image was a shadowy man looking from behind a wall, eyeing the HAT-2 rocket from afar. In the bottom left corner, a blue marker flashed, letting out a soft noise. Athena prodded a bit, tapping on a couple things before flipping to the next piece.

"_I don't know why I was assigned to, um… It's not my place to question"_ showed now, the crying, blue man now weakening how heavily it was flashing. Behind the words, a picture showing the shadowed figure holding a fairly blank document with a few descriptors about the HAT-2 mission was shown. Athena zoomed in on the document, but determined it fairly useless, as she moved on.

The next part was "_I had to kill Mr. Terran to keep him from talking about the bombing so Mr. Starbuck could be blamed"_ with the marker staying much of the same. Now, however, anger spiked up, a red indicator bright in the top right corner. Starbuck was shown in cuffs, being pulled away by an officer with Clay dead on the ground. Athena tapped on her chin before she switched over.

The anger vanished and the upset marker decreased, but surprise began to flash. The words "_I guess to get the moon rock back as well? But then Mr. Cosmos appeared…"_ bubbled up while Widget put together the shadowy figure standing by the fallen Clay and the moon rock's capsule. They were looking at a door where Cosmos could be seen through the window. Athena reached a hand up, about to tap the surprise marker, but she drew her hand away and just let out a small mutter. The screen was flipped over.

The last bit of the testimony came up, saying, "_In the end, though, the mission was a success?"_ in large letters. All emotion besides the upset marker had vanished, with his distress rising. The rocket laid in the background, destroyed with Cosmos looking at it. Athena gave an absent-minded comment of the oddity of it, but didn't mess around with the image. She just tapped back twice, bringing up the middle of the testimony. She then clicked on the red marker, eyeing over the information put on it.

"Now you're faking being mad about killing Clay?" she accused, looking beyond the machine to give Fulbright a nasty look. "Just how desperate are you?"

Fulbright thought rapidly before explaining, "It… was an inconvenience to my mission. I was told to kill if I needed to, but it would've done more harm than good."

"Anyone can see that's a lie," Athena answered. "That contradicts your own testimony. You said you killed him to get the moon rock and to blame Mr. Starbuck." Slamming a fist down as she spoke, she proceeded to shout, "Will you stop _faking_ this already?!"

To her surprise, Fulbright lashed back. He put his hands on the desk, saying to her in a voice louder than his usual, "I'm not faking anything!"

"Then why are you mad at having to kill Mr. Terran?" she shot back.

"_Because he shouldn't have died!"_

Before Athena could give a reply, the Mood Matrix lit up to a bright red. The emotions on the screen had vanished, replaced now by only the marker to show anger flaring violently. Strong, red waves spread out across the screen, and it let out a harsh noise with each one sent off. She looked down at the screen.

"What is it doing?" Simon asked, unable to keep himself from looking at it.

She switched the screen. The flood remained. "He's overloaded with anger," she answered quite simply. "I don't know why he's playing this game, but I'll have to find the root of the anger."

"The root?" he repeated.

She looked to him and nodded. "You've seen me do this before."

"You seem to think I understood."

"... Fair enough." Athena moved the testimony around. "There's something in his testimony that's causing a very strong emotion, or so Mood Matrix says. I have to find what it is if I want to get back to calm him down."

Whatever Simon said in reply was ignored. Athena simply had gone back to the first bit of testimony, looking it over carefully. She reached a hand up, hovering for a minute before tapping on the shadowy man. A panel of information came up before she tapped a button at the bottom simply saying "Probe".

Athena looked up. "So, phantom. You seem awfully mad at yourself. Are you upset because you got caught?"

Fulbright's hands fisted. "No! I'm not even the phantom! Isn't that why you're even here? To help with that?"

Simon stepped in now, saying, "You have been telling us information like you are."

"Because you won't _listen_ to me," he said in an aggravated tone. "She's staring me down every time I say I'm not. You aren't accepting anything else- I don't have a choice in this!"

"Fine." Athena seemed strangely calm. "I'll bite. Say you aren't the phantom. If so, then where even were you on the day of the HAT-2 sabotage?"

There was a pause before Fulbright relaxed and hung his head. "I was at home," he confessed. "I was supposed to stay there until the next day, and not supposed to leave."

"Who ordered that? And why?"

His index fingers pressed together. "The phantom told me to. Likely to stop anything weird from happening, like me being in two places at once or getting in the way…"

As though cued, the anger the Mood Matrix showed fell away. A screen then showed up, reading his dischord. That too dropped, going from a full 100% to nothing. The program then gave the words "Bye-bye!" before it closed. Athena then smiled. Her arms folded and she said proudly, "Hey, maybe I'm not too bad at this stuff!"

An amused snort came from Simon. "Yes," he said, "you're certainly a master."

She gave him a face. "Well I'm not as good as you, obviously..."

"Calm yourself, Athena," he dismissed. "It is not of importance. Regardless of your skill in art of manipulation, I believe my point has been proven well enough?"

"You bet!" She looked rather happy, smiling and with Widget glowing green.

"What's going on?"

The two looked over at Fulbright's voice, and Athena answered, saying, "I'm sorry Detective Fulbright. I had to act like your were the phantom so we could make dischord. Widget doesn't work without it, and I doubt any would be made with you just saying it all." She smiled. "On a good note though, everything went well! Widget is working fine and everything went normally."

He didn't look entirely sated, but nodded regardless.

"By the way," she continued, "when's your trial? If you know?"

"In two days." He answered with slight caution, wary of any more tricks.

Her hands came on her hips. "That should be enough time, then, seeing how I don't have anything to do anymore." She then gave a peace sign, declaring, "Athena Cykes is on your case, then! I'll show the world you're not the phantom!"

"What?!" Fulbright pulled away, hands raising as though a gun was being pointed at him.

Athena folded her arms, smiling. "Well, Simon said you don't have a defense attorney, anyways." Her arms snapped to her sides now, hands fisting. "And I want the real phantom caught for everything they did! If you're convicted of being him, then we're never gonna get the right guy! And wouldn't be, um, unjust for that to happen?"

"I- Yes, but-"

Athena didn't let him finish. Instead, her fists pressed and came to the side of her face as she said, "Great! You can leave it to me, then!"

"Athena…"

Her head snapped over to Simon. "Something wrong?"

He looked mildly entertained. "Perhaps it is not of my place to say this, as I am a prosecutor, but would it not be wise to listen to your client if they wish to say something?"

"Hm?" She looked to Fulbright. He was sulking. She blinked, and asked, "What's up?"

"I just wish you all would tell me when you're going to do this stuff…" he mumbled.

Her hands came to her face, fingers lightly touching her face. Widget turned yellow, and she asked, "Do you not want me to defend you?"

"No!" Fulbright gave his signature salute. "I have full confidence in you, Ms. Cykes!"

Her hands went on her hips once more. "I was already given everything to be able to defend you. I'm going to be doing some extra investigations of my own, but I'll be back tomorrow as well to talk with you."

"What are we going to do about the phantom themself, though?" Fulbright's hand had dropped, and he looked a little distressed. "We don't know where they even are."

Simon stepped in now, saying with his eyes closed, "Then I suppose my seven year hunt will have to continue. Not every "Not Guilty" verdict comes because the criminal was captured."

"Right now, the priority is your innocence," Athena said. "I'd like the real phantom behind bars, but as long as you aren't, I can settle with that. For a while. Everything will end up great. You'll see!" Her hands came to her sides. "If you ever get worried, just… do what Apollo told me to do. Say, "I'm Bobby Fulbright and I'm fine" as loud as you can!"

"Don't leave him to say it as loud as his voice will allow," Simon interjected. "The fool will end up hurting everyone's ears worse than he currently does."

Athena gave him an empty glare. "You're ruining the good mood."

"It's all right," Fulbright spoke up. "Everything will be fine, like you said. All we need to do is fight for justice!"

* * *

**End notes because I'm lame:**

_Did you guys find all the ships? Haha sorry if you wanted Simon/Athena, but hey, canon yuri so you can't really complain. If I recall right, I sneaked in Franziska/Simon, Athena/Juniper, Trucy/Pearl, Phoenix/Edgeworth, Metis/Aura, and I may or may not have hinted Apollo/Simon. I have no idea how this happened, but oh well. They're all great pairings._

_This story was supposed to have Blackbright, but look where we are now. Maybe I'll shove it in at the end._


End file.
